


Wanting

by Minkel23



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Boss/employee sex, Desk Sex, Engineering, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit sexual scenes, F/M, Light Bondage, Marine Biology, Miscommunication, Now a friends with benefits with secret undercurrents of hidden love fic, Oral Sex, Reylo - Freeform, Set on an oil rig, Starfish destruction, alright lets multichapter the heck out of this oneshot, author has spent too much time researching for this fic, barnacles, ben and Rey are in love, but can’t tell each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2019-11-27 18:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkel23/pseuds/Minkel23
Summary: In one moment of weakness she gave him everything, and he’s been more than happy to take her meagre offering.But him...He’s always holding something back.She tries not to let it bother her.He said it himself, after all. They only have one night together. One night to fuck each other out of their systems. One night to quench this infernal wanting.She’d be foolish to expect anything more.





	1. Starfish

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a repost of an old Tumblr prompt I filled. I’ve made some minor edits and added two chapters, the next of which is going up tonight (UK time). 
> 
> There’s no real plot.
> 
> Just smut, and a touch of angst.
> 
> Because angst is just what I do (shrugs).

Footsteps sound from the hall, carefully light, so as not to wake the others, but also pointedly certain.

 

It’s the dead of night. The usual Friday farewell party shenanigans wrapped up an hour or two ago, the music fading to nothing, voices going from loud to soft, giggling couples whispering to one another as they snuck off to bedrooms, or to hidden corners of the staff quarters.

 

Rey left the party early. She always does, feigning tiredness, or a need for peace and quiet. She’s known as something of an oddity around here, a marine biologist on an oil rig full of installation managers, system analysts and offshore engineers. The only one dedicated to saving the environment on an oil rig full of hundreds happy to destroy it. The others smile at her,  _ because we’re all scientists, after all,  _ but they keep their distance. 

 

Because she’s not one of them, after all. 

 

Not really.

 

This particular rig has a staff of around four hundred, with thirty engineers and analysts. Rey, who isn’t employed by  _ First Order Oil Co.,  _ but is there on behalf of  _ Resistance Futures, _ has a private room on the same floor as the other scientists. Her room is small, just a single bunk with a desk, a bookshelf, a cupboard and a tiny en-suite bathroom, but still, it’s  _ hers,  _ and a safe place from everyone else.

 

No. Not everyone else. From  _ him. _

 

Tonight her room is hot and humid. The air that is circulated around the rig can be set to chill, but Rey refuses to touch it. Recycled air is bad enough; she draws a line at falsely cooling it too.

 

And so she lies in her bunk, in only a vest and her sleep shorts, her skin already covered with a thin sheen of sweat, her hair pulled up and away from her neck. She’s hot and uncomfortable and lonely for company and it’s-

 

Well, it’s just like home, she thinks ruefully. 

 

Rey’s about to reach into her shorts, to bring about sleep in the only sure fire way she knows how, when she hears the footsteps in the hall. She inhales sharply, her heart suddenly beating faster, her hand abruptly shaky, lingering over her stomach. 

 

The footsteps stop outside of her room.

 

She knows who it is before he even opens the door.

 

He doesn’t knock. For a moment, Rey’s room is flooded with light, and then the door closes, and the dark returns. 

 

But he’s in her room now. His presence looming large and obvious, even in this artificial black of night. He doesn’t move, just looks down at her while she stares up at him.

 

They’re only shadows watching shadows, in the end. Vague outlines in the dark, without any real knowledge of the hidden depths that lie below. She thinks of the last time they were alone, in the deep-sea submersible, two hundred metres below the surface. She thinks of the minutes spent together, slowly descending into the black seawater. 

 

Minutes spent inhaling the smell of his body.

 

Minutes spent with his thigh pressed firmly against her own.

 

Minutes spent with his fingers occasionally brushing the tips of hers.

 

It was torturous. It was agonising.

 

It was sublime.

 

Rey sits up in bed, regards him warily. He doesn’t wait for an invitation, simply kneels in front of her bunk, his hands reaching out to grip her own.

 

His fingers are warm, his hands firm, and Rey cannot help the shudder of pleasure that rushes through her.

 

He must feel it too, because he laughs, deep and low.

 

Rey blushes, but stays silent, her hands still in his.

 

There’s no point in fighting this, she knows. It was always going to come down to this, in the end.

 

‘Hello, Starfish,’ he breathes, and her mouth goes dry. 

 

She watches, still mute with nerves and building excitement, as he pulls at his shirt. The garment stretches across his taut stomach, wide shoulders and the long arms that she knows brim with muscles, before he tosses it to one side.

 

‘No wonder you can’t sleep, Starfish. It’s as hot as hell in this room.’

 

She clears her throat briefly. ‘Leave, if it bothers you. I didn’t exactly invite you in, after all.’

 

He laughs again. ‘Didn’t you?’ He queries. His fingers disentangle from her own, and for a moment she wonders if he will take her at her word. Wonders if he will stand up, pull his shirt back on and walk back out her door. 

 

But no.

 

He hums as his hands find her arms, running his fingers up and down the length of them, making her skin shiver, even in this heat.

 

‘Your eyes were all the invitation I needed tonight, Starfish,’ he tells her. ‘Or were you not staring at me earlier?’

 

She flushes red, because she was staring at him, and she can’t deny it. She bites her lip, thinking back to the party, to seeing him in the corner of the room, a brandy in his hand and Bazine draped across his lap. She’d felt sick on seeing them together, on knowing that Bazine- with her petite frame, dark eyes and engineering degree- was his choice for the evening. And as she’d watched him skirting his hand up one of Bazine’s legs, she’d been unable to look away. So much so that she didn’t even realise when his eyes caught her own and he’d raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. His face, so lazy and disinterested but moments before, had filled with curiosity and a sharp, hot longing. 

 

A longing that was written all over her own face.

 

He’d dropped his hand from Bazine’s leg instantly, shifting her from his lap, and smiled at Rey even as Bazine frowned.

 

It was then that Rey realised what had happened. That after four months- four whole, long, wistful months- of concealing her feelings, of averting her eyes, of feigning non-interest, her mask had slipped and Ben had seen what lay beneath. 

 

And so she’d ran. Abandoned her wine, the music, and the friends that weren’t really friends, to slip back to her bedroom. She’d showered, brushed her teeth and clambered into bed.

 

But she didn’t lock her door.

 

Because it was always going to come down to this, wasn’t it?

 

Ben sits up on his knees, letting one hand brush up to her shoulder and then along the curve of her collarbone. She inhales sharply, and he nods.

 

‘You were staring at me,’ he says, almost smugly. ‘I know you were, Starfish. _Because_ _I was staring at you too_.’

 

His hand dips lower now, tracing the edge of her vest, his fingers grazing softly over fabric and exposed skin.

 

‘I wish,’ Rey begins, her voice unnaturally thick. ‘I wish you wouldn’t... wouldn’t call me that.’

 

‘Starfish?’ He muses, sounding vastly entertained.

 

‘Yes.’

 

He smiles, his grin wide as his hand keeps brushing back and forth along her chest. ‘But that’s what you are. My starfish. Don’t you remember your first day here? When you disembarked? We were all half terrified by the thought of you. This marine biologist, foisted upon us by regulatory bodies to produce environmental impact reports. We were told you were tough, one of the hardest in the field and then...’ his voice drifts off just as his hand dips even lower, so that his fingers slide under the fabric of her shirt. ‘And then it was  _ you.  _ This little slip of a woman, with big brown eyes and a freckled nose and wearing a jumpsuit and hard hat ten times too big for you. Because we’d been told to expect a man, you see? And yet you wore that jumpsuit all day, like you didn’t have a care in the world. Walking with a cute little waddle, just like a little starfish plucked from the ocean and made to walk. And I was torn in two, because one half of me just wanted to laugh, while the other half...’

 

‘The other half?’ Rey asks nervously.

 

His hand stops, and he snakes the other into her hair, pulling her head back.

 

‘The other half of me spent the next four months imagining what you looked like under all those fucking layers.’

 

He brings his face to hers, pressing his forehead against her own, his breath warm against her skin.

 

‘It’s my last night on this rig,’ he whispers into her mouth. ‘I’m going back to the mainland tomorrow.’

 

‘I know,’ Rey whispers back. ‘I was at your farewell party, remember?’

 

‘How could I forget?’ His hand is moving again, going lower-still, searching out for-

 

Rey gasps when he finds a nipple, rolling it between his fingers before pinching down softly. 

 

‘Give me something else to remember you by, Starfish,’ he says hotly. ‘Show me what’s underneath all your layers.’

 

Rey’s eyes flutter close when he reaches for her vest, finding the ends and pulling it up over her head. He growls when her chest is bare, pulling him roughly towards him so that they are skin-to-skin. His hands wrap around her back and he bites down into the soft skin of her shoulder, before peppering the wound with wet kisses. 

 

‘Do you bite, Starfish?’ He asks, his voice thick with desire. ‘Do you have a hidden sting?’

 

Rey licks her lips. She knows what he wants. He wants sweet, passive Rey. He wants to fuck the pliant, timid little girl with a crush on him. The one who desires him, who averts her eyes whenever he walks in a room so that he won’t see the pure want within. He wants her to open her legs and give him his way so that he can stop wondering about the girl in a too-large jumpsuit. So he can leave this rig without questions, unfulfilled desires or second thoughts.

 

He wants his little starfish.

 

Not a stingray.

 

He’s looking at her hungrily, and she reaches down, plucks his hand from her nipple and brings it to her lips.

 

‘Find out,’ she orders him, just as she sucks his thumb into her mouth and bites down with her teeth.

 

‘Fuck,’ he exhales, but he doesn’t spring away. ‘You like to play.’

 

She responds by sucking hard on his thumb, which he pushes even further into her mouth, testing her limits.

 

He grins. ‘It’s always the quiet ones.’

 

He pulls his thumb from her mouth and stands up. He’s massive in her little room, and for a moment, she wants to shrink under the covers. But he climbs on top of her, kneeling above her, a leg at either side of her stomach locking in her place.

 

‘Let’s play then, Starfish,’ he says, reaching down for her hand. He presses it against the front of his trousers, allowing her to feel the erection that sits there, hard and proud.

 

She feels vaguely weak. ‘But I haven’t even touched you yet-’

 

‘No,’ he agrees. ‘You haven’t. But I’ve wanted this for a very long time now, Starfish.’

 

He unzips quickly, pulling himself free from the confines of his pants, and Rey understands immediately. She sits up, his legs still pressing into her sides, and reaches for him. As soon as her hand circles around him he moans lightly, his head rolling back in pleasure.

 

‘Fuck,’ he exhales again, and Rey shakes her head. 

 

‘Not yet,’ she replies, just before parting her lips and sucking him into her mouth.

 

Now he really groans, the sound reverberating through the darkness as she works her mouth on him. He’s big, and she can’t take as much of him as she would like, but she gives it her best shot. Her tongue sweeps around the head of his cock liberally before she sucks, hollowing her cheeks and feeling him hit the back of her throat. She pulls away slightly, licking at the tip of him, before starting the process anew.

 

Ben is panting above her, filthy words falling from his lips, his head thrown back as she finds a rhythm. He reaches toward her, cradling her head in his hand, while thrusting with his hips. 

 

Rey has never really enjoyed this particular act before. It’s always felt forced on her part, something to be given, not something to be enjoyed. But with Ben...

 

With Ben, she is absurdly turned on. She’s unbelievably wet, her nipples hard, her cheeks flushed. With her free hand, the one that isn’t wrapped around Ben’s impressive girth, she reaches between her legs, desperate for friction and movement there.

 

But before she can touch herself, Ben’s hand wraps like steel around her own. He pulls away from her mouth, leaving her with just the hint of him on her lips.

 

‘No,’ he says quietly. ‘I didn’t come here tonight to fuck your mouth, Starfish. And I’m not going to last if I watch you do that while my dick’s between your pretty little lips.’

 

He pulls away completely, standing again, and she despairs at the loss of contact, reaching for him, searching out the hot length of his cock. It’s still all so dark; he is nothing but vague outlines and intriguing shadows.

 

She wants him nonetheless.

 

He pulls at her hands, drawing her towards him.

 

‘But-’ she begins to argue, but he puts a hand gently over her mouth.

 

‘I’m not going to fit in that bunk of yours, Starfish.’

 

He pulls a pillow from her bed, laying it on the floor, and a blanket too. He kneels on the pillow, before pulling at her, so that her legs hang off her bunk, her back flat against the mattress and her head pressed against the hard wall behind her.

 

He settles between her legs, pushing an arm under each thigh and splaying his hands on her stomach. He bites the inside of one leg, hard, and she tries to sit up, to cry out.

 

But his hands hold her firm.

 

‘Comfortable?’ he asks her, and she feel his smile against her skin.

 

‘No,’ she replies instantly.

 

His smiles widens. ‘Well, let’s see if I can change that, Starfish.’

 

He licks at her, kissing and biting a trail from her knees to the tops of her legs. She’s still wearing her sleep shorts, but that doesn’t stop him. When he reaches the apex of her thighs he simply nuzzles into the damp fabric, before kissing and licking her through the thin cotton. 

 

She’s already so aroused that her back arches almost instantly, a moan falling from her lips.

 

‘You like that, little Starfish?’ he says, low and hot against her. ‘You like my mouth on you like this?’

 

She moans again, tightening her legs against him, and he returns to lapping at her. 

 

She closes her eyes, allowing pure sensation to wash over and through her, letting pleasure build slowly. But the friction isn’t enough to push her over the edge and so she hangs on the precipice, pushing against his lips, desperately searching for more contact, more pressure, more  _ him. _

 

His hands hold her down even more firmly, so that she strains against him, her body still writhing.

 

‘Take it easy, Starfish,’ he croons at her. ‘I’ll give you more. I’ll give you everything I have. But we only have one night. So let’s make it last.’

 

He rubs a hand gently on her hip bone, lulling her into quiet submission. ‘I’ll take these off,’ he promises her, starting to pull at her shorts, slipping them from her hips. ‘But I told you,’ he adds, his voice firm, ‘I didn’t come here to fuck your mouth, and you aren’t lying here so I can fuck you with mine. The only place you’re going to come tonight is all over my cock. Understand, Starfish?’

 

She nods breathlessly, her mind a mess, desperate to have him against her again. He smiles at her eagerness, tossing her shorts somewhere across the floor to join the rest of their forgotten clothes. 

 

When he licks at her, his mouth hot and wet and right where she needs it most, she covers her mouth with her hand to muffle her cry of pleasure. He suddenly sucks and her vision blurs; clenching her fists tight, Rey remembers her promise not to come on his mouth and twists her legs to the side, removing his mouth from her.

 

‘Fuck,’ he exhales. ‘It isn’t going to take you long, is it? You’re so sweet and wet for me already. Fuck, Rey, you have no idea how much...’

 

But he doesn’t finish his words. Instead he pulls her from her bunk, laying her on the floor and settling himself between her legs, supporting his weight with his forearms. She’s vaguely aware of the cool tile on her back and of the softness of his trousers on her legs, and she realises he hasn’t taken them off completely. She’s completely naked to him, completely exposed, and she knows she has been since she locked eyes with him earlier that evening. In one moment of weakness she gave him everything, and he’s been more than happy to take her meagre offering.

 

But him...

 

He’s always holding something back. 

 

She tries not to let it bother her.

 

He said it himself, after all. They only have one night together. One night to fuck each other out of their systems. One night to quench this infernal wanting.

 

She’d be foolish to expect anything more.

 

He starts to kiss her collarbone, before nuzzling at her neck and sucking at the sensitive patch behind her ear. She squirms underneath him, panting lightly, and he stops. He rests on his forearms, looking down at her, her face but an inch from his. She can’t read his expression, but she can feel his every breath on her skin. It’s warm and surprisingly sweet.

 

‘Why did you pull away that day?’ He asks suddenly.

 

She’s grateful for the dark. Grateful that he can’t see the truth in her eyes.

 

‘What day?’ She replies, pleading ignorance.

 

‘You know which day,’ he says darkly.

 

She does. She remembers it as though it were yesterday. It had been changeover day, and both she and Ben had gone surface level. He’d been there to see off one of his managers, while she’d been seeing off a box of scientific samples. 

 

It had been a clear day, the Gulf a perfect blue, the sky azure and dotted with wispy white clouds. Ben watched as the helicopter took off and cleared the rig, keeping her eye on it until it was a dot in the distant landscape. Reluctant to return below immediately, she sank to the ground, her back to a wall, letting the sun warm her and breathing deeply of salty sea air. She closed her eyes, basking in the summer rays hitting her skin, in the light wind playing with her hair. The hum of machinery was in the air, and she stretched out, her arm hitting a solid warmth next to her.

 

Her eyes had flown open, her mouth falling into a perfect circle when she saw Ben next to her, his long legs parallel to her own. 

 

He didn’t say anything, looking at her closely, his eyes intent but masked. She’d blushed heavily and looked away, her body suddenly awkward and her tongue heavy. Ben sighed, closing his own eyes and letting his head rest against the wall.

 

And then he took her hand, squeezing her fingers before interlocking them with his own.

 

Rey’s heart thumped wildly within her chest. She’d wanted him to touch her for so long, just as she’d wanted to touch him. She’d spent long nights fantasising about running her fingers through his hair, or kissing the heavy lids of his eyes. She’d dreamed of being pinned down by him, helpless as he took his fill of her body.

 

But she’d never imagined any of her fantasies might actually come true. She was just Rey, after all, while he was  _ Ben.  _ Ben, who could have his pick of any of the few women on rig. Ben, who it was said had slept with hundreds of women back on the mainland. Ben- tall, dark and devastatingly attractive to Rey- who knew she looked at him with puppy dog eyes. And now he was indulging her adoration with a treat, throwing her a bone of affection. He knew all he had to do was whistle, and she would come.

 

She was just a besotted fool, and his touch mocked her.

 

She stood as though his hand burned her, shaking his fingers from her skin. He opened his eyes, glancing up at her. 

 

‘I have to go,’ she said bluntly, turning toward the lift.

 

‘Rey-’ he’d called after her, but she didn’t turn to look back.

 

And now he wanted to know why.

 

Rey shifted underneath him, biting a lip he couldn’t see.

 

‘Why did you push me away?’ He asks again, pressing a kiss to each of her shoulders.

 

Rey sighs. ‘I was scared.’

 

He stills. ‘Really?’ His voice is almost cautious when he speaks again. ‘Of me?’

 

‘No, not  _ of  _ you. More the idea of you. I’m all alone here, really, and daydreaming of you...’ she blushes, and shrugs. ‘It’s been sweet to imagine that you and I...’ she stops, and sighs again. ‘But I know you and I are a one-time thing. And I didn’t want our one-time to be then.’

 

‘A one-time thing,’ Ben repeats, his voice surprisingly blank. 

 

‘Yes,’ Rey says.

 

She doesn’t tell him the truth. That she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with him and, knowing that she couldn’t have him again, seeing him everyday on this rig. It’s easier this way, she thinks, swallowing hard. One night and no hard feelings. Ben gets on the helicopter tomorrow, and she never has to see him again. This way, her hurt is minimal. This way, her wanting is satisfied without being crushed.

 

‘A one-time thing,’ Ben says again. This time, Rey is surprised by the bitter tone to his voice.

 

‘Don’t sound so... so...,’ Rey frowns, her words drifting into nothing. ‘Just don’t.’

 

For a moment they are quiet, until Ben sighs. ‘Whatever you say, Starfish,’ his voice hardens, and he returns his mouth to her body, licking at her chest. ‘Well, let’s get this one-time only over with, shall we? For both of our sakes.’

 

He’s abruptly brutal with her. His lips make their way down her chest and he bites at her breasts and nipples, alternating his teeth with his tongue until she whimpers beneath him. But it doesn’t seem to be enough for him, and his hands tighten on her arms, digging into her skin almost painfully. Rey doesn’t cry out, simply arching her back and pressing her damp centre against the hardness between his legs. He growls, low against her ear, and sucks a nipple into his mouth. 

 

Now she gasps, moaning loudly, and it spurs him on. He bites her again, before turning his attention to her other breast, peppering it with bites and kisses. She goes to move a hand, to rake her fingers down his back, but he keeps her prone in a vice-like grip, slamming her hands back down onto the floor so that they ache.

 

It suddenly occurs to Rey that he’s testing her limits. Any hints of gentleness within him has gone; he’s being rough, demanding and dominant.

 

And she, the perfect submissive, is going to lie here and take it all.

 

She raises her legs, crossing them behind his back, encouraging his attentions. He pauses, and even in the dark, she can tell she’s surprised him.

 

He surprises her right back. One of his hands releases hers, and he reaches down to cup her cheek.

 

‘Fuck, Starfish,’ he says, before bending his head down, his lips hovering just over her own, his tongue already darting out to lay claim to yet more of her body.

 

A kiss.

 

Rey feels a flare of panic, and turns her head. 

 

She knows that he wants all he can take. 

 

She knows he can take anything he wants.

 

And she’ll give him all of it. 

 

All of it, except the one thing that truly counts.

 

‘What?’ He asks. ‘Why won’t you let me-’

 

‘We both know this isn’t about... about  _ that,’  _ Rey says weakly. 

 

He stops. His body is hot, his skin damp to the touch, and she longs for more of him. 

 

‘Fine,’ He snaps. He makes no effort to kiss her again. Instead, he bites once at her throat, before hauling her up and throwing her onto her stomach. With rough hands he pulls her onto all fours, before kneeling behind her and sliding his cock into her waiting heat.

 

She cries out at the sudden, full stretch of him, while he groans, low and almost pained, as he buries himself inside her.

 

It’s more than she ever imagined. It’s better than anything her mind could ever conjure up between them. And as he starts to move, setting a punishing pace and hardly giving her time to breathe, it only gets better.

 

His thrusts are hard, precise and quick. And she meets them, her hips pushing back, her legs opening wider, so that he swears violently.

 

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he growls.

 

She knows he’s close. And she can feel in herself a building of pleasure, a rising heat in her belly, and a desperate ache to feel that glorious peak. 

 

‘I’m not going to last,’ he says abruptly, and she nods. He brings a hand between her legs, finds her clit and begins to circle it, hard and fast. Rey cries out, throwing her head back, so close to falling into the abyss.

 

‘Please, please,’ she babbles. His strokes get harder, and she moans. ‘Please, come inside me,’ she begs. ‘Give me everything.’

 

She breaks apart then, the pleasure engulfing her, clenching around him and crying out. He thrusts through it, and when the last flutters die away, he pulls out of her.

 

‘No,’ she says. ‘No, stay... come inside me... stay with me...’

 

But he grips her back with one hand and his cock with the other, holding it over her.

 

‘ _ This _ isn’t about  _ that,’  _ he says, echoing her earlier words. With a groan, he spends himself on her back, a wet warmth running down her side.

 

For a few minutes more he stays beside her, rubbing a hand along her arm.

 

‘Starfish,’ he says softly.

 

He doesn’t say anything else.

 

She gets up to shower, spending a brief minute under the water. When she returns, he’s gone, her pillows and blanket returned to her bunk.

 

The next morning, the helicopter returns to pick up the crew who have finished their time on the rig. Ben is among them, and despite the fact that he is their manager, still manages to laugh easily enough with the others.

 

Rey is sending another box of samples to the mainland. It could’ve waited till next week, but then-

 

Ben spots her just as she’s finished loading her case. He walks over to her, and she bites her lip nervously. 

 

‘See you around, Starfish.’

 

‘Not likely,’ she replies. ‘My time here is up in a month.’

 

He nods. ‘Where will you go then?’

 

She shrugs. ‘Wherever they send me, I suppose.’ She pauses. ‘You?’

 

‘Same.’

 

She nods. ‘Well, I guess this is it then-’

 

He laughs, a short smirk on his face. He leans down, embraces her with one easy arm. ‘No, Starfish,’ he whispers into her ear. ‘We’re not done yet. You still owe me a kiss, after all, and I owe you-’

 

She thinks of his spend on her back, at the satisfying and sticky weight of it on her skin. ‘What?’ She blushes. ‘What do you owe me?’

 

He grins. 

 

‘Come find me, and you’ll find out.’

 

He boards the chopper and she stands there, quietly watching it rise into the sky. As it turns in the direction of the mainland, she feels her stomach sink.

 

He’s really gone, she realises.

 

He’s gone.

 

But she wants him still. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Barnacle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barnacles are fascinating. Honest to God, who knew that something which spends all of its life stuck to the bottom of a boat had such an ace-card up their sleeve?

She’s due to give a talk at a conference in Texas when she sees him again. 

 

It’s been... what? Three years?

 

Three years. 

 

Three years of cold days and even colder nights. Three years of the barren Alaskan landscape, of icy winds and murky grey seas. Three years of whale watching and barnacle breeding and eating more fish than can possibly be good for her.

 

Three years spent, for the most part, on a  _ Resistance Futures  _ oil rig, watching the wildlife shrivel around her, while issuing warning reports to the Environmental Concerns department. Reports she’s fairly certain are read, ignored and then binned. 

 

Or maybe they’re recycled. They are the Environmental Concerns Department, after all, and Rey has to tell herself something positive so she can sleep easily at night.

 

Poe Dameron summed it up for her on her last visit to head office, her barnacle report under one arm and the annual profit report under the other.

 

‘Fuck the barnacles,’ he’d told her with a shrug, and now, after three years of studying the unmoving little bastards, she’s inclined to agree with him.

 

Fuck the barnacles indeed.

 

The hotel the conference is being held in is nice. It’s impersonal but clean, large but easy to navigate. She’s there for three nights, and there’s a buffet every evening that has something on it other than fish, for which she thanks all the barnacle Gods in all the arthropod heavens. 

 

But for every spark of joy in her life there must be a damp cloud ready to rain on her parade, because it’s at the buffet, while she queues for chilli, that she spots him across the room.

 

_ Him. _

 

_ Ben. _

 

Or, as she’s been want to think of him the past few years,  _ the best sex of her life to date. _

 

She stops dead in the queue, her heart suddenly racing, her hands shaky. It’s fucking awful timing, given that she’s currently balancing a tray onto which she’s greedily loaded food. One plate is laden with fries, another has salad liberally topped with ranch dressing and one more has a small slab of chocolate cake covered in whipped cream. It’s a lot, but she’s unapologetic for her rampant hunger.

 

It’s been a long three fucking years.

 

Sadly, she’s not dressed to impress, wearing a torn pair of jeans and her flats. Her t-shirt is old and frayed and proudly exclaims that ‘Marine Biologists do it Underwater’. Given her last encounter with him, the slogan is now unbearably apt while also being suitably mortifying, and if she had a spare hand she’d cover it. But both her hands are busy, gripping the enormous tray she’s just filled, and, not for the first time in her life, she envies the cephalopod family for their many tentacles. If she had eight arms she could carry her food, cover her shirt, fix her hair, put on a fresh layer of lipstick and still have three arms left with which to strike a sultry pose.

 

Sultry, at this point though, feels like a pipe dream. Slovenly is much more likely, given her ripped clothes and the state of her hair. Slutty is also a candidate, given the double entendres of her shirt. Sulky is definitely the front runner though, as she’s stands there with a scowl on her face, her headphones firmly in, hoping to discourage anyone from talking to her. 

 

She still prefers her own company. Solitude is a habit that’s hard to break, after all.

 

A flash of dark hair catches her eye though. Dark hair and dark eyes. A magnificent set of shoulders, rippling in the distance. A man who is tall, broad, and imposing in every sense. A man whose body she still dreams about in her sleep, whose cum she can still recall running luxuriously down the small of her back.

 

She looks down, feeling her breath catch in her throat, willing herself to be smaller so that he does not see her. Willing herself not to exist, so that she can escape this room with her tray of food and eat upstairs in peace. Willing herself into invisibility, until tomorrow at least, when she can put on her heels and make-up and face him how she wants to be seen, instead of how she actually is.

 

A marine biologist, who apparently does it underwater.

 

But no such luck. The God of all barnacles clearly hates her, because no sooner is she at the front of the queue for chilli and having a spoonful dished onto her already precariously balanced tray than she feels her headphones tugged from her ears and a gentle laugh issue from beside her.

 

‘Hungry are we, Starfish?’

 

Fuck.

 

She sighs, biting her lip as she looks up. ‘Hello, Ben.’

 

He grins, long and large and... and why is everything about this man so big, so damned overpowering? 

 

‘That’s quite a tray, Starfish.’

 

But he isn’t looking at her tray. He’s gazing steadily at her, and she tries desperately to find meaning in his eyes. 

 

‘I have a healthy appetite,’ she replies eventually, when she remembers that she has a voice, and should use it.

 

He smiles at that, low and dangerously. ‘I remember, Starfish. Very well, in fact. You like putting things in your mouth, don’t you? So far as I recall, anyway.’

 

Her mouth falls open but she finds she cannot speak.

 

He chuckles in her silence. ‘I like your shirt.’

 

Now she’s blushing furiously, still clutching desperately at her tray.

 

‘Is it a rule?’ Suddenly, his head ducks down to hers and he’s whispering in her ear. ‘Do marine biologists really only do it underwater?’

 

‘I... um...’

 

He stands to his full height, shoving his hands in his pockets and regarding her throughtfully.

 

‘I’m not a scientist,’ he muses. ‘But even engineers like testing theories,’ he nods at her shirt. ‘I don’t know about you, but that looks like a theory to test to me, Starfish.’

 

Is he...  _ propositioning her?  _ Here? In the queue for Texan chilli at the San Antonio Hilton, while she’s holding a tray full of cheap carbohydrates? 

 

‘Ben...’ she starts, her voice thick. She clears her throat, stepping away from the throng of people behind her, readjusting her hold on her food. ‘Ben... are you... suggesting something?’

 

His grin is dark, delicious and infinitely dangerous. All of a sudden, she’s flooded by an entirely different sort of hunger. The kind of hunger that no carbohydrate will ever be able to fill. ‘I have a healthy appetite too, Starfish. And remember, I owe you.’

 

She stares at him, her breath hitching in her throat.  _ Owe me what,  _ she longs to ask, but remains resolutely silent. She must already look like a prize idiot to this man, just a besotted little girl in her grotty jeans and humorously printed shirt. She won’t open her mouth and look like an unknowing idiot too.

 

‘Put your tray down,’ Ben says languidly. ‘Come on.’

 

‘But I-’

 

‘Leave it,’ he says, firmer now. ‘I’m hungry, Starfish. Let’s go.’

 

His words drip with such authority that Rey feels her mouth go dry. She never thought of herself as the submissive type, but with this man... well, with this man, her treacherous body overrides her well-educated mind and she wants nothing more than to agree to his every demand.

 

And she hopes his demands of her are rough, hard, and fast. 

 

She nods, finding an empty table and dumping her tray upon it. There isn’t even time to look at her abandoned meal with regret, because Ben is taking her hand and pulling her from the buffet restaurant. Her legs are weak, her belly coiled tightly with desire, her skin flushed. 

 

Ben must sense the sheer want that’s coursing through her, because he looks down at her and grins.

 

‘Hope you’re hungry, Starfish.’

 

Abruptly, he stops, pulling her body firmly against his. She can feel heat emanating from beneath his clothes, sense the hard lines of his muscles against her hands. It takes all of her willpower not to throw her legs around his waist and mount him then and there.

 

His lips ghost over her cheek, before he bites on her earlobe, the light pain making Rey gasp in his arms.

 

‘Come on Starfish,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s go fill that big appetite of yours, shall we?’

 

***

 

He takes her out for fucking pizza.

 

She’s aroused beyond belief, in the company of a man whose body practically ripples with desire, promise, sex and satisfaction and he’s taken her out for fucking pizza.

 

Pizza.

 

Granted, it’s a lovely restaurant. Small and cosy, with all the tables set into little nooks and crannies, giving the impression of privacy and intimacy. Candles provide the only light, and a wine list is produced as soon as they are seated, by a waiter with a linen napkin held over one arm. 

 

But even now, a menu in one hand and an aperitif in the other, she’s not sure how it happened.

 

One minute they’d been standing in the reception area of the Hilton, staring into each other’s eyes, and the next Ben was bundling her into a taxi, giving an address to the driver and whispering into Rey’s ear about how he hated ‘cheap hotel buffets’.

 

Rey’s not so fussy. She would’ve happily partaken of the cheap hotel buffet before partaking of Ben for dessert. 

 

But now her dream dessert is regarding the wine list thoughtfully, asking her if she prefers red or white, while she’s still taking in her surroundings with a dazed expression.

 

‘Bring a bottle of both,’ she hears Ben say to their waiter, and she turns back to find him looking at her intently. ‘Rey, look, about tonight-’

 

‘This place is really romantic,’ she blurts out, and Ben sits back, his eyes still locked on hers.

 

‘I guess it is,’ he replies easily. ‘It was recommended to me by a friend. It’s the best Italian restaurant in San Antonio.’ He frowns, ever-so-slightly. ‘Why? Do you not like Italian food?’

 

‘No, it isn’t that- I mean, I love Italian, but-’ 

 

Ben smiles. ‘Good. I remember on the rig you always seemed to like the pizza nights. I saw you once with this big plate of garlic bread and cheese and pineapple and wondering where the hell you put it all.’

 

She’s floored that he remembers so small a detail about her. It’s then, still clutching her menu and staring into Ben’s brown eyes, that a thought, small and exciting and budding with possibility, begins to build in her mind.

 

‘Red or white?’ Ben asks again, when the wine is brought to their table. 

 

‘Whatever you’re having,’ she shrugs, still staring at him, watching as he pours them both a glass of white, condensation slowly forming on the glass.

 

‘So tell me, Starfish,’ Ben begins, sitting back and sipping from his glass. ‘How have you been? I went back to the rig three weeks after...’ his voice drifts off with a knowing smile, and Rey, who understands instantly, blushes hard. ‘You weren’t there,’ Ben carries on, ignoring her discomfort. ‘They said you’d left two weeks early.’

 

‘Oh,’ she says weakly. ‘Oh, well, my research wrapped up early and my manager at Resistance wanted me in Alaska for their barnacle study.’

 

Disbelief flickers momentarily over his face. ‘Barnacle study?’ He asks.

 

Rey nods, enthusiastic to discuss her work, knowing it delays the  _ other  _ conversation they probably need to have. ‘So, there’s been a decline in barnacle numbers reported on Resistance’s rigs in the Gulf of Alaska,’ she starts. ‘They asked me to live on one of their rigs, take a sample of the barnacles from the water and breed them in the lab. They wanted to know if the decline really was an issue, and if it was, whether it was due to the environment of the rig or an underlying problem with the barnacles themselves.’

 

Ben stares at her. ‘You’ve been...  _ breeding barnacles  _ for the past three years? Really?’

 

Rey nods, her face impassive, sipping her wine. 

 

Ben stares more. ‘How do you... I mean... barnacles  _ don’t move _ , Rey. How do they even... are they self-fertilising?’

 

‘No, they have sex.’

 

Ben’s face is somewhere between sceptical and stunned. Vastly amused, Rey watches as he fights with himself about asking the question that clearly is on his mind.

 

‘ _ How? _ ’ He asks, his curiosity clearly winning through. ‘They’re effectively superglued to an unmoving surface. How the fuck do they... fuck?’

 

Rey shrugs, taking another sip. ‘They have the longest penis relative to body size in the animal kingdom. It can grow up to fifty times their body length.’

 

‘Jesus,’ Ben exhales, clearly impressed.

 

‘I know,’ Rey sits forward, suddenly animated. ‘It would be like... how tall are you? Six foot? It would be like you having a three hundred foot penis, instead of, you know...’

 

Now she’s blushing again, their conversation having veered into dangerous territory. Awkwardly, she looks away, taking another potentially unwise but, at this moment, oh-so-incredibly-necessary, mouthful of wine.

 

‘And you’ve been... breeding them?’

 

‘Yes. It’s terribly interesting, actually. I had two control tanks, one with water kept calm and one with water set to churn, and my barnacles... well, did you know that barnacles in churning water have shorter but thicker penises? I took videos of them copulating and... hang on, wait... I probably have some still on my phone and...’

 

Ben’s face is unreadable as Rey gets out her iPhone and loads up a video for him. She hands it to him and he watches for a few minutes, his face impassive, before passing her phone back.

 

‘As fascinating as Crustacea copulation is, Starfish, this is a nice restaurant and I feel a blush coming on.’

 

She takes her phone back with flushed cheeks and unaccountably, Ben grins at her.

 

‘You know, you think I’d be surprised by the thought of you sitting there so sweetly with oceanography porn all over your phone and stud barnacles at home in your bedroom, but I’m not?’ Ben’s grin grows larger. ‘What other secrets are you hiding, Starfish? Anything else to confess?’

 

She shakes her head, burying her embarrassment in the bottom of her wine glass, which Ben automatically refills.

 

‘Why are you at this conference?’ She asks him abruptly. ‘First Order rarely send anyone to these things.’

 

‘That’s not true, I was at one last June. In Buenos Aires, on Antarctic Research and-’

 

‘Oh, Antarctic Research and Oil of the Future?’ Rey finishes in surprise. ‘Oh, that’s a coincidence; I was meant to be be at that one too.’

 

‘Were you now?’ Ben asks, his voice low, his expression odd.

 

‘Yes, I was really excited for it too,’ Rey scowls. ‘But at the last minute my manager decided to go instead and I was pulled from the listing.’

 

Fucking Poe Dameron, she thinks again.

 

‘Oh,’ Ben exhales quietly. ‘Oh. I looked for you there.’

 

Once again, a thought rises inside Rey’s mind and she bites on her lip.

 

‘So... why are you at this one?’ She asks, abruptly desperate for conversation. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that ‘Oil and it's Oceanographic Impact’ would be a relevant conference for an engineer from  _ First Order,  _ of all companies.’

 

‘Maybe I have an underlying interest in barnacle breeding,’ Ben shrugs. ‘Or maybe I’m terribly concerned about the swim patterns of Antarctic Penguins. Or maybe I have a secret fascination with seabirds. Or...’

 

‘Or what?’ Rey asks.

 

His eyes lock onto hers suddenly, and his gaze is hot and full of longing.

 

‘Or maybe I have a secret fascination with a marine biologist from Resistance Futures,’ he sips at his wine, his eyes drifting from Rey’s face down to her shoulders, and then towards her bare arms. 

 

Her skin tingles from such a heavy visual caress.

 

‘Ben?’ She whispers helplessly, her voice oddly broken. ‘Ben... is this... is this a date?’

 

His eyes snap up to hers sharply. ‘Do  _ you  _ think this is a date?’

 

She lets her eyes roam around the cosy restaurant. She takes in her expensive glass of wine. She lets her gaze linger momentarily on her companion, well dressed in pressed clothing, his eyes intent and searching.

 

It’s the ultimate exam question, she realises. One wrong move here and she goes home with nothing. The right move and she goes home with Ben, for one more night at least.

 

Ben, she reminds herself. Ben, who never sticks with any girl for too long. Ben, who apparently slept with most of First Order’s female crew. 

 

Ben, who could have any girl he wanted.

 

She’d be a fool to imagine that girl might be her.

 

‘No, this isn’t a date,’ she replies, with an unnatural and uncomfortable laugh. ‘I remember your reputation... you don’t date girls, you only play with them for a time.’

 

He sits back, his fingers unaccountably clenching the glass in his hand.

 

‘My reputation?’ He repeats, his voice suddenly hard.

 

‘Back on the rig, all the girls told me about... well...’ she drifts off, hoping he would take her meaning so they could drop this uncomfortable topic. 

 

‘You believe everything you hear, Starfish?’

 

‘No, of course not, I’m a scientist,’ she retorts hotly. ‘But as a scientist, if you continually hear and see behaviour occurring, there’s a probably a truth or a pattern there.’

 

‘And I’m like a science experiment to you?’ He asks, his voice devoid of emotion. ‘You’ve seen and heard enough to come a satisfactory conclusion?’

 

‘Well, no,’ Rey begins. ‘I wouldn’t say that-’

 

‘Hmm. I take it I’m only a step-up from one of your stud barnacles, then? Although with a three hundred foot penis, the barnacles actually have one up on me.’

 

Rey feels unaccountably flustered. ‘Ben... I didn’t mean... I didn’t imply... well, first of all, you have nothing to worry about where... where  _ barnacles  _ are concerned, okay? You do just fine in the... in the...’

 

Ben is watching her with a tight smile. ‘In the penis to body length ratio department, I believe you mean?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey exclaims. ‘I mean, you’re no, um,  _ pole-vaulter,  _ but your size is perfectly adequate- more than adequate, even, and-’

 

‘Rey.’

 

Ben’s use of her name catches her attention and she stops. ‘Yes?’

 

‘Stop talking about my penis.’

 

‘Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry... it’s just that... wow, I’m so glad this  _ isn’t  _ a date now. Because if the barnacle sex conversation didn’t kill off your interest in me then the penis length remark certainly would, hey?’

 

‘Rey,’ Ben’s voice is firm, blank even. ‘This isn’t a date. Don’t worry.’

 

‘Okay,’ she breathes, drinking more wine. She studies Ben for a moment. ‘It’s just, it  _ felt  _ like a date kind of restaurant. I mean, they’re turning people away. You have to have a reservation and I don’t know how we even got in and-’

 

‘I had a reservation,’ Ben admits quietly

 

‘Oh,’ Rey feels her words die in her mouth. ‘Oh. But this is still... not a date. But why a reservation? I don’t understand-’

 

Ben sits back, looks at her with a shrug. ‘Oh, you know my reputation. A girl in every town, after all. Let’s just say my plans this evening fell through.’

 

‘Oh,’ Rey exhales.

 

Because of course.

 

Of course, Ben had plans this evening. Briefly, Rey wonders which girl Ben has arranged to meet here. Bazine, probably. Or that leggy blonde from First Order’s systematic research department.

 

It doesn’t matter, Rey decides.

 

The girl wasn’t her, in the end. She’s only the back-up. The second choice.

 

‘You said earlier that I only play with girls for a time,’ Ben remarks, cutting into Rey’s thoughts. His voice suddenly lowers, and his hand creeps across to her legs, squeezing her thigh. ‘Feel like being played with tonight, Starfish?’

Rey’s mouth runs dry, and her heartbeat abruptly races.

 

‘Yes,’ she whispers.

 

‘Say it, Starfish. I want to hear you say it.’

 

She bites her lip, dizzy with sudden need and want.

 

‘Play with me tonight, Ben.’

 

‘You didn’t say please, Starfish.’

 

‘Please Ben,’ she swallows. ‘Please play with me tonight.’

 

He doesn’t smile at her, but stares at her hard, squeezing her thigh once more. He calls for the bill, and pulls her to her feet. 

 

‘We’ll take the pizzas to go,’ he tells the waiter authoritatively, before glancing at her. ‘Come on, Starfish. This isn’t a date, so let’s get the fuck out of here.’

 

The weather is sticky and hot outside, the evening air cool on her heated skin. She’s hardly had time to adjust to the temperature change though before Ben throws her against the restaurant wall, nudged a knee between her thighs and begins to lick and bite at her neck.

 

He’s hard, hot and fast against her.

 

His tongue is searching, insistent and drawing moans from her mouth.

 

And against her hip is a hardness which puts barnacles to fucking shame.

 

When he releases her, she’s a panting mess, reaching for him again and wanting his hands and mouth back on her skin.

 

‘I still owe you,’ he whispers promisingly into the flesh he’s just sucked and bitten.

 

And God, how she wants him to make good on those words.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is called ‘Walrus’.


	3. Walrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that Arm the Doors is finished this one shot is standing at around eight chapters. 
> 
> I know.
> 
> I hate me too.

Rey gets called in to the New York office of Resistance Futures on a wet and windy March day, the sky the colour of slate, rain falling heavily onto the pavement. She’s huddled under an umbrella, but keeping dry is already a useless cause. Her feet are wet within her shoes and her tights stick miserably to her skin, while her skirt and blouse are damp under her drenched coat. Water runs in rivulets down her face, and she brushes the droplets from her eyes and cheeks with a wet and cold hand. Her hair, which she washed, brushed and dried not two hours ago, has fallen from it's pins, settling against her neck in lank waves.

It’s like being on a fucking rig again, Rey thinks, as she peers up at the grey skyscraper where Resistance Futures owns thirty floors.

She’s ushered in by reception staff, who follow her wet trail with a mop and bucket, wiping away all evidence of her existence within this building with an even hand and a steady smile. 

‘Here for Resistance, are you?’ One asks, as he wrings out the mop for a second time.

‘Yes,’ Rey replies, through chattering teeth, ‘I have an interview with Leia Organa.’

‘Wow,’ he’s clearly impressed. ‘With Leia Organa herself? I didn’t even know she was in the building today. I saw her son go up earlier, but not her. Well, that’s not a surprise. She has a small apartment on the 52nd floor; sometimes she sleeps there overnight.’

‘Oh,’ Rey nods politely, rubbing her hands together in an effort to stay warm. ‘I didn’t know she had a son.’

‘Not many do,’ he shrugs. ‘Had a bit of a falling out years ago. But he’s back at Resistance now, and from the looks of things, she’s gearing him up to take over.’

‘I’m sure he’ll make a great boss,’ Rey remarks, praying that the lift will arrive soon so she can dash into a bathroom and make a rescue attempt on her appearance.

‘Confident you’ll get the job, hey?’

‘Oh,’ Rey blushes. ‘Oh, I just meant that... well, I already work for Resistance. This interview is for a promotion of sorts.’

‘Right,’ he smiles at her as the lift arrives with a ding. ‘Got it. Well, good luck to you.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, pushing the button for the reception of Resistance. The lift is slow and lumbersome, and a puddle builds steadily under her feet as she rides up to the 23rd floor. When the doors open, she shivers as a blast of AC air hits her wet skin. She huddles further into her coat, trying not to grimace when the beautifully coiffed and immaculately made up receptionist eyes her sceptically, her long lashes hardly fluttering as she gives Rey a hard once-over.

‘I’m here for a ten am meeting with Leia Organa,’ Rey explains. ‘I’m Rey Johnson,’ she adds, flushing suddenly under the receptionist’s bored gaze.

‘How lovely,’ the receptionist intones, in a voice dripping with restrained sarcasm. ‘Well, Ms. Organa is in a meeting right now which is likely to run over by about forty minutes. Her assistant Ms. Connix has asked me to send you up to her desk and she’ll take care of you until Ms. Organa is ready for you.’

‘Thanks,’ Rey replies. She stands for a few more seconds, shivering, waiting for further instructions. But the receptionist has gone back to her computer, her long fingers tapping on the keys, and Rey eventually clears her throat. ‘Umm... where can I find Ms. Connix?’

The receptionist gives a long sigh. ‘Floor fifty-one.’

‘Okay,’ Rey turns, following her wet trail back to the lift, pressing the button for floor 51. When the doors open again, she finds herself in a busy office, desks and desks of people lined up around the room. She stands and stares, uncertain and awkward. Eventually, she wanders up to the closest desk, smiling at the girl behind it nervously.

‘I’m looking for Ms. Connix?’

The girl stares at her. ‘Who?’

‘Umm. Ms. Connix? Leia Organa’s assistant? I have an interview with Ms. Organa later and I was told to look for Ms. Connix...’

‘Oh!’ The girl grins at her. ‘You mean Kaydel. She has her own office. Follow this corridor to the back and you can’t miss it.’

‘Thank you,’ Rey says. The girl stares at her for a moment.

‘You’re fucking soaked,’ she comments.

‘Yes,’ Rey agrees. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘And you’re meeting with Leia?’ She whistles. ‘Leia will hate that.’

‘Well,’ Rey swallows. ‘It’s raining outside. I can’t help the weather.’

The girl gives her an indulgent smile. ‘Yeah, I know, but look, Leia Organa is never anything other than put-together, so much so that the highest paid woman on her payroll is her stylist. Leia Organa made it to a conference during Hurricane Mitch in a white Chanel suit, every strand of hair in place. When New York pretty much closed up shop during the last snowstorm, Leia held a shareholders meeting wearing four inch Louboutins. She’s always ready, always immaculate, and she expects that in her staff. She’s the First Lady of the oil industry, after all.’ She gives Rey a hard look up and down. ‘And she won’t consider a bit of rain an excuse to be anything less than perfect.’

Rey nods patiently. ‘Well, clearly I’m not the First Lady of the oil industry. I’m a marine biologist. I spend most of my job wearing rubber shoes and dungarees.’

The girl stares at her blankly. ‘They make rubber shoes?’

‘Well, yes, I...’ Rey shakes her head. ‘Look, I’m just going to go and find Ms. Connix, okay?’ She goes to turn away, but her British blood stirs, and she turns back. ‘It was nice speaking with you,’ she says politely.

Rey trudges down a well-lit corridor, and in the sterile environment of this office she suddenly gets a whiff of a sodden, musty smell.

And fuck, it's her. Her woollen coat, suitable only for a light London drizzle, has started to dry in the AC air. But the fabric, damp in places and stiff in others, has begun to emit an unpleasant odour, reminiscent of wet-dog, or mouldy towels.

She groans into the palm of her hand. She’s about to meet Leia Organa, owner of Resistance Futures and her employer, first-lady of the oil industry, immaculate and perfect, smelling of wet dog, completely drenched, with her hair curling unattractively around her neck. 

This day, Rey decides, could not get worse.

Except, of course, that it can. And does, rapidly.

Because, after knocking on the door for Kaydel Connix’s office, and after hearing a sing-song ‘Come in!’, Rey presses on the door handle, walking into the room and coming face to face with Ben Solo.

Fucking Ben Solo.

Fuckable Ben Solo, her treacherous brain supplies.

He’s leaning on Kaydel’s desk, grinning down at the pretty blonde, when his eyes flicker up to see Rey standing in the doorway.

‘Oh!’ Kaydel stands, swatting away one of Ben’s hands, and reaching up to push an invisible strand of hair back into place. ‘Oh, you’re Rey Johnson,’ she says, leaning over to shake her hand. ‘I’m so sorry that Leia’s delayed. Oh, and look at you, you’re soaked through.’

‘Yes,’ Rey replies tightly, pointedly ignoring Ben’s eyes. ‘It’s raining heavily outside now.’

‘You poor thing,’ Kaydel tuts sympathetically. ‘Well, let me at least get your coat for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Rey says, pulling the smelly, offensive garment from her shoulders and handing it to Kaydel. Kaydel does her best to hide a grimace as she handles the damp fabric with two fingers, smiling as she deposits Rey’s coat into a nearby closet. While her back is turned, Rey casts a quick glance in Ben’s direction, only to find him staring at her.

Or at least, staring at her chest.

Because her blouse is damp, the white fabric sticking to her skin, and the cool AC air has made goosebumps break out across her arms while her nipples pebble hard within her shirt. 

Nipples Ben is looking at without shame, his eyes hot, his gaze steady.

And Rey wonders if he’s remembering that night in San Antonio, what was it? A year ago now? That night, where he tied her up and fucked her for what felt like hours but also, inexplicably, only a few minutes. That night, where he licked and bit the nipples he’s currently staring at, until she ached all over for more. That night, where, once the blindfold came off and his tie was pulled from her wrists, he simply got up and left, his spend drying on her legs, never to be seen or heard from again.

Until today, that is.

Kaydel turns back, and seeing the direction of Ben’s eyes, flushes uncomfortably. 

‘Miss Johnson, would you like to... dry off somewhere? There’s a bathroom a few doors down with heated-’

‘She can use my office.’

Ben’s voice, still as low and sultry as Rey remembers, cuts into Kaydel’s words with such authority that both women turn to look at him.

‘Oh, Ben, no, that won’t be necessary-’ Kaydel begins, but Ben, looking up at her and away from Rey’s chest, shrugs his shoulders.

‘I have a large mirror, a heater, and it will be more private than the bathroom,’ he smiles at Kaydel warmly. ‘Besides, you and I can have a coffee here while we wait for her.’

Kaydel chews on her lip, clearly deliberating. ‘What do you think, Miss Johnson? Will Mr. Solo’s office be acceptable? Oh,’ suddenly she pauses, looking from Rey to Ben and back again. ‘Oh, Rey, this is Ben Solo. Ben, this is Rey Johnson and-’

‘We’ve met before,’ Rey replies evenly, hoping to God Ben doesn’t hear the nervousness in her voice.

‘Really?’ Kaydel seems surprised.

‘Yes,’ Ben drawls. ‘We had an enlightening discussion about barnacles.’

‘Barnacles?’ Kaydel’s brow furrows. ‘I don’t think... oh, wait,’ she looks at Rey. ‘You’re the marine biologist, right? You worked for Poe Dameron’s environmental project over on one of our Alaska rigs, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Rep nods. ‘That’s right.’

‘How is Poe?’ Kaydel asks.

‘Oh,’ abruptly, Rey blushes, and she sees Ben’s eyes narrow dangerously. ‘He’s still Poe,’ she finishes awkwardly.

‘What are you working on together at the moment?’ Kaydel asks, with genuine curiosity.

‘Walruses,’ Rey replies.

‘Walruses?’

‘Well,’ Rey swallows. ‘Specifically the length of their penile bones. And whether or not they are shrinking with growing pollution rates.’

Kaydel swallows. ‘Everything about that sentence makes me feel slightly disgusted, no offence. So do you guys... like... measure their...’

Rey laughs. ‘We have specialist equipment for research and viewing. Although Poe always jokes that he’s more of a ‘hands on’ kind of worker...’

‘He’s such a scamp,’ Kaydel laughs. ‘You know, one year, just after we both started working for Resistance, we went to this God awful bar down Brooklyn way, and he got me so drunk on cheap tequila that I still can’t touch the stuff. I can’t imagine what he would be like to work with on one of the rigs.’

‘Actually we’ve never worked together on one of the rigs, we work together at the London office, when I’m there,’ Rey explains.

‘Right,’ Kaydel smiles at her again. ‘I’ll bet he’s loving all that cold London air.’

‘Well, he finds ways to keep warm,’ Rey replies instantly without thinking. Suddenly, Ben stands, shoving his hands into his pockets.

‘I’m going to take Miss Johnson over to my office, let her warm up and get dry,’ he says sharply. ‘Kay, make me a coffee will you? I’ll be back in a few minutes and we can continue catching up.’

‘Oh- oh, okay, Ben.’

Ben walks over to Rey, giving her a long up and down look, his eyes clinging to her curves and to the long legs still clad in her wet tights. He doesn’t smile at her, or show any sign of emotion at all in fact, as he gestures towards the door and indicates for her to follow him.

‘See you soon, Miss Johnson!’ Kaydel calls out, and Rey turns briefly to wave goodbye. Ben stands next to her, surreptitiously using her distraction to slip a hand onto the small of her back, guiding her from the room.

‘Poor Starfish,’ he mutters lowly, once they are alone in the long, clinical corridor. ‘Wet all over, aren’t you?’

His voice is practically a growl, and Rey feels herself flush spectacularly.

‘I... um...’

‘You are, aren’t you?’ He queries, gazing at her heatedly as he leads her to a corner office at the back of the building. ‘Wet.’

‘I... I don’t think this is...’

‘What?’

‘I don’t think this is appropriate,’ Rey replies, her heart pounding, the mere physical presence of him being enough to reduce her to a quivering mass of jelly.

‘Appropriate?’ He raises one eyebrow at her. ‘I only want to help you, Rey.’

‘Help me?’ She asks weakly.

‘Yes,’ he replies, stepping closer to her, crowding her against what is clearly his office door. ‘I want to help you. You know... with how wet you are.’

She stares at him for a moment, losing herself momentarily in the dark eyes that are gazing at her with such hunger. It’s almost a shock to her system, a bucket of water over the desire which is building steadily in her body, when he reaches past her to open the door, stepping past her into the room beyond.

‘Come on in, Starfish.’

She follows him meekly, as if she could do anything else, and her mouth immediately drops when she takes in the sheer space and decadence of his office. Floor to ceiling windows give a panoramic view of Manhattan, while plush carpets and furnishings are littered about the floor. Artwork, clearly expensive and clearly genuine, adorns the only two walls, a splash of colour against a background of creams and light.

‘This is a really nice office for an engineer,’ Rey tells him, and he looks at her for a moment, long and hard, as though trying to detect humour, sarcasm, or something else perhaps, in her voice.

‘Yes,’ he eventually replies, looking away and glancing around the room. ‘I suppose it is a nice office,’ he glances at her again. ‘For an engineer,’ he adds.

‘I didn’t even know you were working for Resistance now,’ she carries on. ‘What happened with First Order?’

He shrugs, going to a desk at the other end of the room and opening a drawer. ‘Let’s just say I found an incentive to work for Resistance,’ he replies casually, pulling out a hand towel and handing it to her.

‘You keep a towel in your desk drawer?’ Rey asks, staring at the cloth in her hand.

‘I also keep a bottle of whisky in there and two glasses,’ he replies. ‘It’s a bar towel, Starfish. This is an expensive antique desk and my mo- well, Leia Organa might not take too kindly to water rings on it.’ He pauses, a wicked glint coming into his eyes. ‘I thought it might help dry you off. You know, because you’re so wet.’

‘Stop saying wet,’ Rey shifts on her feet, bringing the towel to her hair and wringing out her locks.

‘Why? You prefer moist?’ He leans against his desk, that hot, longing look coming back into his face. ‘I prefer wet myself. Dripping, soaking, slippery wet.’

Rey shifts again, and he gives her a small, humourless smile.

‘Strip off then,’ he orders, and she splutters into the towel.

‘I’m... I’m sorry?’

‘Strip,’ he says again. ‘Your clothes are clearly uncomfortable. Take them off. There’s a private bathroom through that door there. Put them on the heated handrail to dry.’

‘I can’t strip here,’ Rey says, with a deep exhale.

‘Why not?’ His voice is calm, almost measured, and she shifts again, fighting down another wave of desire and the urge to do exactly as he tells her.

‘Umm... because of...’ she gestures helplessly to the massive windows, and he turns to look at them, a look of curiosity crossing his face, as though seeing the glass panels and their amazing view for the first time.

‘No one can see in, Starfish,’ he says, in that low voice again. ‘I could fuck you five ways against that window and no one in Manhattan would be any the wiser.’

The words are spoken so softly that at first, Rey’s not even sure she heard him correctly. But once she’s had a moment to think, to taste his words with her mind and consider them, she bites on her lip, nodding slowly.

‘I could just strip in the private bathroom,’ she replies quietly, and Ben also nods, his face still, his hands gripping his desk now so that his knuckles show white under his skin.

‘You could,’ he agrees, as though it's an entirely sensible suggestion. ‘But there wouldn’t be any fun in that for either of us, would there now, Starfish?’

‘No,’ she shrugs. ‘No. I suppose not.’

She moves a hand to start unbuttoning her blouse, but Ben holds up a hand, stopping her.

‘No,’ he tells her. ‘On my desk. Take off your tights, and then your skirt, and then your underwear. Leave the blouse on.’

She licks her lips, which- like her mouth- have suddenly gone dry. There the only parts of her that are dry, she thinks, as she moves towards Ben and his antique desk. Her skin is shiny with both rain and perspiration, her hair is damp and her palms sweaty, and between her thighs a slick, altogether different kind of moisture is building.

When she reaches the desk, she stands before Ben, waiting for further instructions. She reaches out, running a finger down the length of the blue tie he’s wearing, and delights in seeing the shiver that runs through him.

‘Do you want me to...’ she pauses. ‘Or do you want this to be like San Antonio?’ She asks quietly, and he inhales sharply. 

‘You think about that night in San Antonio?’ He asks her, his breath warm on her neck, and she nods, keeping her eyes downcast.

‘Only when I’m getting myself off,’ she whispers, and sees him shudder again.

‘Me too,’ he admits. He begins to pull the tie from his neck, and once it's in his hands, soft and lax, a silk strip of promise, Rey bites her lip again.

‘How long do I have?’ She asks, remembering Leia, and her interview and-

‘Leia could be hours yet,’ he whispers back. ‘We have half an hour, at least.’

She nods, holding out her wrists and letting Ben tie them together tightly. Once she’s bound he stares at her for a long minute, and she wonders briefly if he’s going to kiss her. They’ve fucked twice now, but on neither occasion have their lips ever met. It feels like an unspoken rule between them now, that kissing is entirely off-limits, that what they have is sex and nothing else. 

She’s surprised when she feels a sudden longing to have him kiss her, to feel his lips against hers, to dip her tongue into his mouth and taste the heat within. 

But he turns his head away, hauling her into his arms and laying her across his desk. Her shoes and tights are removed within seconds, her skirt unceremoniously dumped on the floor. Her underwear he removes slowly, dragging them down the length of her legs, his fingers spanning her thighs, the pressure firm but gentle, sending sparks of desire down her spine.

He looks at her core, a delicious smile spreading across his cheeks. ‘I was right,’ he tells her languidly. ‘Wet all over, aren’t you, my beautiful Starfish?’

She flushes, but refuses to play the complete submissive. Her wrists might be bound, but she’s no meek mouse.

‘And you were worried about water rings on this desk,’ she bites back, and he laughs.

‘Oh, I fully want you to come all over this desk. I want to be sitting here in a month, going over reports from the Gulf or Arctic, and see evidence of my Starfish under all my paperwork,’ he leans forward, an arm on either side of her shoulders, crowding her deliciously against the desk. ‘I’ll lick it up, Starfish. Mark my words.’

She shivers. ‘I have to come first,’ she says evenly, with a poise she really shouldn’t possess under such circumstances. What is it about this man, she wonders, that when fully clothed before him she feels awkward and unspeakably gauche, but once naked, his hands and mouth on her body, she feels like a Goddess of grace and sex? 

‘You will,’ he promises her. 

‘Will you... will you... umm... pull out again?’ She asks quickly, her words a rush.

That’s another thing about their trysts. They don’t kiss, and he never comes inside her. It shouldn’t bother her, but it does.

‘Do you want me too?’ He asks, a sudden sharpness to his words.

It feels like a trick question, one to which there can be no good reply. She’s damned if she says yes, admitting affection for him, and she’s damned if she says no, and things carry on to their less than satisfactory conclusion.

‘I... umm... I suppose, under the circumstances, it might be for the best...’ she starts, trailing off awkwardly.

His face hardens, and he growls at her. He physically growls at her, like a lion taking down his prey, and she feels a pulse of pleasure through her body.

‘You know what, Starfish?’ He says heavily. ‘If it’s so unappealing a prospect to you, I don’t think I should fuck you at all today.’

‘No, I-’ she begins to protest, but her words die in her throat and her head rolls back when she feels him press his mouth between her legs, sucking and licking where she needs him most.

She inhales sharply, arching up off the table, her bound wrists flailing in an attempt to draw him closer. But she can’t, and she moans instead, pushing her hips towards his face, encouraging him without her hands to help her. 

The fucking prick actually has the balls to smile into her thighs.

‘Oh, you like this, Starfish?’ He says cuttingly, as he pulls away, leaving her hanging on a precipice into which she would willingly throw herself.

‘Yes,’ she throws back, hating him.

He reaches up, pulling at the buttons of her blouse until they snap open. He pushes the fabric away from her body, before pulling the cups of her bra down, exposing her breasts to the cool air. He stares at her almost reverently, one hand drifting over her skin, fingers reaching out to pluck at her nipples. 

She can’t help the moan that escapes her lips, just as she’s certain he can’t help the growing erection in his trousers. 

‘You want to fuck me,’ she says, her words almost a dare. She uses a foot to push at the bulge in his trousers, and he closes his eyes at the pleasure.

‘Oh, I want to,’ he replies, opening his eyes again. ‘But I’m not going to. Not until you learn to take everything I’ve got.’

She bites her lip and turns her head to the side. The battle lines have clearly been drawn, and she refuses to be the one to cross them. Regardless of how much she might want to.

‘Well,’ she whispers, closing her eyes. ‘Your loss is my gain, I suppose.’

He shakes his head at her. ‘Confident little brat today, aren’t we Starfish? Well, I’m sorry sweetheart, but if I’m not coming then neither are you. I’m just going to play with you for a time. Play with you a little before discarding you, like any other disappointing toy.’

‘You wouldn’t dare-’ she begins, but her words are silenced by his mouth latching onto her right breast, just as his hand mercilessly tweaks at the other. 

‘So delicious,’ he mutters over her skin. ‘Everything about you is delicious, Starfish.’

She writhes underneath him, panting slightly, desperate to break the bindings on her wrists so she can reach down and get herself off. He smiles again, breaking away from her, tsking at her lightly.

‘Play by the rules, Starfish,’ he tells her. 

‘Your rules,’ she spits back.

‘My rules,’ he nods, pulling at the tie on her wrists, making sure she’s still securely bound.

‘I need to come,’ she admits. ‘You can’t expect me to go through today without... not now... I’ll go crazy...’

He smiles at her indulgently. ‘Alright, Starfish. How about a compromise of sorts?’

‘A compromise?’ She whispers, as he sucks on a nipple again. She locks her legs around his thighs, grinding against his hardness, and he laughs.

‘We can both come without breaking any of the rules,’ he tells her, running a hand through her hair affectionately. He stands suddenly, opening the fly of his trousers, and Rey instantly understands.

‘What do you say?’ He asks. ‘You can do me and-’

‘Put it in my mouth,’ she orders immediately, hardly able to contain her enthusiasm. Once again he smiles, before sweeping her into his arms and settling her on the floor, the plush expensive carpet soft under her knees.

‘Starfish-’ he begins, as he pulls his trousers down, but now it's his turn to be silenced by pleasure as Rey immediately works him into her mouth. She can’t use her hands like she normally would, can’t cup him or hold him or do anything other than suck and lick at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His head rolls back, filth uttering forth from his mouth, his hands clenched into fists in her hair.

He must be worked up, because it doesn’t take him long to spurt into her mouth with a long groan, his thighs tensing, his shoulders hunching. She swallows down what she can, letting the rest dribble down her chin, and he looks down at her with complete and utter gratification, pulling away from her and wiping at her chin with his thumb.

‘So wet everywhere,’ he says in a voice that is rich with satisfaction. ‘Such a good Starfish.’

‘You promised-’ is all she can manage by way of reply, before he’s hauling her back onto the desk and pushing his fingers inside of her. His thumb swipes over her clit and his mouth works her nipples and within seconds she’s arching off the desk, calling out his name as she comes hard on the desk.

Just like he promised she would.

When her breath is even, when she can talk without fear of betrayal, she looks at him. He’s already pushing himself back into his trousers, staring at her with an unnerving gaze.

‘I need to get back,’ she tells him. ‘I have an interview and... and my clothes...’

She looks down in dismay at the shattered remnants of her blouse, the buttons pulled and broken, her skirt a crumpled heap on the floor.

But Ben seems calm as he goes to the phone on his desk. The desk she just came all over.

He presses a few buttons, clearly waiting for someone to pick up. ‘Hey, Kate,’ he eventually says. ‘It’s Ben. Look, I’ve got a young lady down here on 51 who needs a new suit and some help with her hair. Can you come down?’ He nods, clearly listening to the other voice on the line. ‘I know it's last minute, and I apologise. But the poor girl got all wet,’ he gives Rey a surreptitious glance, ‘and she’s meeting with Leia in about an hour. She’s a size,’ he lets his eyes drift over her. ‘Well, she’s long and slim. Can you help?’

When he hangs up, he turns back to Rey. ‘So Kate is a stylist for Resistance, she’ll be down in twenty minutes to help you get ready. There’s a shower in there,’ he points to the bathroom. ‘Go and use it. Wash your hair.’

‘I’ll smell like you if I use your shampoo,’ is all Rey can think to reply, and Ben laughs at her.

‘You already smell like me. But it's your choice. You can go into your interview smelling like my shampoo or you can go in smelling like my...’

‘Alright, alright,’ Rey interrupts. ‘I’m going.’

‘Good girl,’ he replies. 

She holds up her wrists so he can untie her. ‘Ben, can I ask you something?’

He shrugs. ‘Of course.’

‘How does an engineer have such a nice office here? And access to a company stylist? And...’ she trails off, as Ben smiles at her.

It’s a genuine smile, warm and soft. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’ He says, half in wonder, and she shakes her head.

‘Know what?’ She asks.

He pulls at the tie and lets it fall to the ground. He rubs at the marks on her wrists, the move both affectionate and soothing.

‘Leia Organa is my mother. She’s the current owner of Resistance, but one day, it will be mine.’

Rey’s mouth drops open just as she pulls her wrists from his hands.

‘That bothers you?’ He asks worriedly.

‘But you... you’re an engineer... you worked for First Order... and you’re not... how can you be...?’

He shrugs. ‘My mother and I had a falling out. But I’m back now, and ready to take my place on the company board.’

‘Why now?’ Rey whispers, and he licks his lips, looking at her long and hard.

‘I already told you,’ he replies. ‘I found I had a reason to return to Resistance.’

She stares at him, still stunned.

‘Go in the shower, Starfish,’ Ben orders. ‘It’s important to me that you get this promotion.’

‘Why?’ She whispers.

He brushes his lips against her ear. ‘Because the thought of you working full time in the New York office, so close to me, is very, very appealing.’

Rey goes in the shower.

She washes her hair with his shampoo.

And all she can think, again and again, is that she just fucked her boss.

And, damn it all, she wants to again.

And again, and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be a friends with benefits, will they ever kiss between all the fucking? fic. 
> 
> No update schedule though, because I’m busy IRL. But I’ll try.


	4. Penguin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s chapter is brought to you courtesy of David Attenborough.

Leia Organa clearly means business in a direct, brutal kind of way. When Rey is ushered into her office, her heels sinking into the soft white carpet, there is no time wasted on preamble, or any kind of greeting beyond a stiff handshake. Instead, Leia directs her into a chair and immediately fires question after question at her. Strangely, Rey doesn’t falter under the barrage. She knows and is passionate about her work, and everytime Leia tries to trip her up- and Rey knows instinctively that she is- Rey is able to answer with an eloquence that surprises even herself. Perhaps it is the endorphins from her earlier orgasm still lingering in her bloodstream, or perhaps it is the new suit Ben’s stylist slipped her into not half an hour ago... whatever it is, Rey is confident, well-spoken and elegant, and after an hour Leia falls quiet, and nods her head.

 

‘You’re very good,’ Leia seems to hum. ‘Yes, you’ll do nicely. You’re just what I’m looking for.’

 

Rey pauses. ‘You mean I have the job? You want me to head Resistance Futures’ new Environmental Concerns Department?’

 

Abruptly, Leia shakes her head. ‘No, not really. The truth, Miss Johnson, is that I don’t particularly want an ‘Environmental Concerns Department’ at all. I’m in the oil business, and oil and the environment don’t mix. You should know that.’

 

Rey bites her lip. ‘So, why the interview -?’

 

Leia gives a flippant shrug. ‘When you’re an oil magnate, it’s simply good P.R to look like you give a shit where the environment is concerned. People are happier to drive their carbon-emitting cars if they think I’m investing in engines powered by cooking oil rather than diesel. People are happier to buy my plastic if they think I’m recycling it effectively. And people are happier to have rigs in their oceans and drills under their ice beds if they think I’m keeping all the poor little penguins safe while doing so.’ 

 

Suddenly Leia stands, going across the room to a dresser from which she pulls a crystal cut decanter and two exquisite looking tumblers. She pours a measure of clear liquid into each and brings one over to Rey, holding it out for her, giving her a long look while doing so. Rey flushes as she accepts the drink. It’s water, simple and clean, and Rey swallows it down gratefully, happy to ease the ache in her throat from having sucked Ben’s dick earlier. She flushes again, and Leia eyes her sharply.

 

‘What do you think?’ Leia asks, nodding to the tumbler.

 

‘Oh,’ Rey gives an awkward smile. ‘Oh, it's very nice.’

 

Leia grins, shaking her head almost in disbelief. She holds her own tumbler up to the light. ‘This, Miss Johnson,’ she explains blithely, ‘is filtered Antarctic ice. The last time I had an environmental research team down there I had them bring me back several slabs of it. I then had it melted and triple filtered. It’s the most pure fucking water on the planet and you just described it as  _ nice _ ,’ Leia shakes her head again. ‘ _ Nice. _ ’

 

Rey feels her temper rise, spitting out a reply before she can think the better of it. ‘It would be an awful lot nicer back in Antarctica where it belongs.’

 

Abruptly, Leia laughs. ‘Spoken like a true environmentalist. You really are perfect for this job, you know. You’re passionate, clearly well-educated and you’re not half bad to look at either,’ Leia gives her a hard look, like a butcher dissecting a likely carcass. ‘Docile, sweet and wide-eyed. The press will be kind to you,’ she decides.

 

‘Don’t be so sure. After all, I haven’t accepted the role yet, have I?’ Rey replies coolly.

 

‘Not yet, but you will,’ Leia replies confidently. ‘A plush office job with a large salary and a budget to spend on the marine research projects you feel will most benefit from the money. Of course you’ll do it.’

 

Rey clenches a fist. ‘Given that I know how you truly feel about the environment, I can’t see how anyone can make this role a success. For one thing, marine research costs money and if you don’t throw a large enough budget at it-’

 

But Leia waves her hand. ‘I’m happy to give you a budget of over one hundred million dollars.’

 

Rey’s mouth falls open, and Leia smiles waspishly at her.

 

‘Ah, that’s quietened you,’ Leia muses. ‘Money always talks, Miss Johnson. A lifetime in this business has taught me nothing more than that morals are cheap and easily bought.’

 

Rey stares at her, not sure whether to hate her, admire her, or shrink away from her in terror. 

 

Leia stands again, throwing her tumbler into a trash can under her desk. It shatters on impact with a loud crack, and Rey jumps. 

 

‘You’ll take the job,’ Leia says, in a voice dripping with authority. ‘You’ll take it, run it and do well with it. You’ll hire a good marketing and P.R team; I want Resistance Futures to be in all the press with positive, life affirming stories. Saved penguins, increasing whale numbers, lower pollution levels... all that kind of shit.’

 

‘I won’t fudge my research, or tamper with any results,’ Rey retorts instantly.

 

Leia shrugs. ‘I wouldn’t expect you too. Just make sure you put a happy spin on everything before you report it. Any negative can be made a positive with the right words,’ Leia pauses. ‘What was your last project on again?’

 

‘We looked at the length of the penile bones of walruses,’ Rey replies evenly. 

 

For a moment, Leia stares at her. Her face is rich with disbelief and disgusted scepticism.

 

‘Really? Resistance Futures budgeted money for  _ that _ ?’

 

Rey nods, and Leia rolls her eyes. ‘Okay, so tell me, Miss Johnson... what did you find?’

 

Rey licks her lips. ‘We discovered that walrus numbers are declining even though, on the whole, their penile bones are getting larger. We haven’t yet established why that might be... perhaps declining female numbers have encouraged males to grow -’

 

But Leia cuts her off. ‘That’s all I need. I can just see the headlines now... ‘A study led by Resistance Futures proves that although Walrus family numbers are-’

 

‘Huddles,’ Rey interjects, and Leia stares at her.

 

‘What?’

 

‘Walruses don’t live in families, they live in huddles,’ Rey explains patiently.

 

Leia rolls her eyes. ‘Like I give a shit. Fine.  _ Huddles,’  _ she sneers. ‘So, a study led by Resistance Futures proves that although Walrus  _ huddles  _ numbers are declining, the strength of the animals is rising, giving hope for the long-term survival of the species.’ Leia nods, immensely satisfied, and Rey cannot help but think of Ben, of the satisfaction in his eyes right after she came all over his desk. And that thought quickly brings her back to the present, and she shifts awkwardly in her seat as she looks at Leia, wondering if the older woman can read the guilty knowledge in Rey’s eyes that  _ she just sucked off her son and cannot wait to do it again. _

 

‘Shit, but that’s good,’ Leia purrs, and Rey jumps again with another dart of guilt. ‘Have you published these results yet?’

 

‘Uh... um, no...’ Rey stammers. ‘You see, we haven’t got any conclusive results yet from the data and-’

 

But Leia gives an exasperated sigh. ‘Do it. With that headline.’

 

Rey sits there, continuing to stare at her, and Leia rolls her eyes. ‘Do you need me to write it down for you?’ she asks with exaggerated patience, and Rey quickly shakes her head, scrambling for a piece of paper from her still slightly sodden bag and jotting down a note.

 

‘Good, well, that’s us then,’ Leia says sharply. ‘You have the job. See Kaydel for all the details. You start a month on Monday, which should be adequate time for your working visa to be organised, for you to find an apartment, and to tie up all your loose ends in Dubai.’

 

‘London,’ Rey corrects her.

 

‘You aren’t from the Dubai office?’

 

‘No, the London office,’ Rey says, ‘I work under Poe Dameron.’

 

Leia shrugs. ‘Fine. Tie up all the loose ends in London. See you in a month, Miss Johnson.’

 

‘But... but... a month,’ Rey stammers. ‘How can I... and Poe... he’ll need to-’

 

Leia eyes her sharply. ‘Is this a personal or professional consideration?’

 

‘Oh... well... I...’ Rey begins, desperately awkward. ‘Poe and I... well, we did try... but it never worked out for us... you see, he wanted more than I was willing to give, and I guess I was still... not over someone else... and...’

 

Leia’s eyes glaze over. ‘What? Do I look like fucking Ann Landers? I don’t give a shit about your personal life, Miss Johnson. You have a month.’

 

Rey bites her lip, a thought suddenly striking her. ‘Why didn’t Poe get this job?’ she asks quietly.

 

‘Hmm?’

 

‘Poe Dameron. He’s my senior back in London, but he wasn’t offered this role. He wasn’t even offered an interview.’

 

‘Well,’ Leia huffs. ‘Not that I have to explain any of my rational to you, but actually, my son and I decided a woman would be more appropriate for this role.’

 

‘Your son?’ Rey asks, her mouth suddenly dry.

 

‘Yes. My son Ben has recently come back to Resistance Futures after an...’ for the first time that morning, Leia seems to falter. ‘Well, after a long sojourn with First Order Oil. But he’s back now, and this Environmental Concerns department is his first project as a leading board member. He believes a woman leading it will look more diverse, more inclusive, and I happen to agree with him. So, you’re it. Congratulations, Mazel Tov, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’

 

Rey stands, taking two steps towards the door before turning back, looking at Leia once more.

 

‘Everyone will think I slept my way into this job,’ she whispers, in utter horror.

 

‘With me?’ Leia smirks. ‘That’s hardly likely, though flattering, Miss Johnson.’

 

‘No... no, I meant with Ben -’

 

But the name has hardly left Rey’s lips when Leia’s expression hardens, her eyes going dark and her arms crossing stiffly across her front.

 

‘My son,’ Leia begins, her voice sharp, ‘may be behind your new department, but- and let me lay this out for you in no uncertain terms- he will not be getting  _ behind  _ anything else. You and he will maintain a strictly professional relationship. Besides,’ abruptly, Leia’s expression softens. ‘You must know the reason for his return to Resistance?’

 

‘No,’ Rey replies quietly. ‘He only said that he found he had a reason to return. He didn’t tell me what that reason might be.’

 

Leia grins. ‘Ben and my assistant, Kaydel... they dated for a long time. Oh, it was years ago now, but still... I always thought I’d find a daughter-in-law in that girl. She’s from a good name, old money, and will be a perfect addition to our family. He came back for her, isn’t it obvious?’

 

Rey feels her stomach drop, her blood cooling rapidly in her veins. She tries to smile, tries to plaster on a grin with which to placate her terrifying boss, but is almost certain the stabbing pain she feels throughout her body will be written all over her face.

 

She recalls walking into the office that morning, seeing Ben leaning casually over Kaydel and her desk, one of his hands playing with hers. She recalls the way Kaydel brushed him off when she walked in, because of course,  _ of course they wouldn’t want people to know. _ And she, Rey -

 

Rey swallows. Because she is, and has only ever been, a plaything to Ben. A sordid fuck on a rig followed by a sordid fuck in a hotel room followed by a sordid encounter in his fucking office. And he’s her boss now, which complicates matters further.

 

Kaydel is beautiful, intelligent, and put-together in a way that makes Rey want to weep with jealousy. She’s nothing more than an awkward, gangly and disorganised mess, made foolish by her infatuation for a man she can never have more than sexually.

 

Rey takes a deep breath and nods her head. Because it is what it is, and she knows, deep down, she can do well in this job, regardless of Ben and his fucking attractive fuckery.

 

‘Of course,’ she says to Leia, her voice cool and detached. She nods one more time, leaving the room and closing the door hard behind her.

 

Physically, she closes the door on Leia.

 

But mentally, she closes the door on Ben.

 

***

 

Rey’s phone flashes 2.48 in the morning when the telephone in her hotel room rings.

 

‘Hello?’ she says blearily, and a clear-spoken receptionist answers.

 

‘Miss Johnson, I have a Ben Solo downstairs for you. Can I send him up?’

 

Rey sits bolt upright in her bed. ‘What? What did you say?’

 

‘I said I have a Ben Solo down here at reception for you. Can I send him to your room?’

 

It’s on the tip of Rey’s tongue to tell the receptionist to have him ejected from the building. Instead, she finds herself standing up, running her fingers through her hair.

 

‘Of course,’ she says evenly, although her heart is racing, the blood pounding hard around her body.

 

Might as well face the devil now, she tells herself. Might as well put things to right, make sure this is now a professional, working relationship, and nothing else.

 

That she slips quickly into the bathroom to run toothpaste over her teeth, to brush her hair and slip out of her cotton, comfort pyjamas and into one of the hotel bathrobes is neither here nor there, she decides.

 

When the knock sounds on her door, she answers it immediately. Ben looks unspeakably good, and Rey feels her core clench with anticipation. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, although the jacket is slung casually over one arm, and the tie and collar of his shirt have clearly long since been loosened. 

 

He eyes her in her robe, raising an eyebrow.

 

‘Not wearing much, are you, Starfish?’ he remarks. ‘Expecting company, are we?’

 

She’s surprised by the bitter tone to his words. 

 

‘No,’ she snaps back. ‘Just you.’

 

He gives her a look, nodding over her shoulder, clearly wanting admission to her room. She sighs, stepping back from the door and ushering him in.

 

‘Where’s Kaydel?’ she asks icily, as she goes over to the little kettle by the television and flipping it on. 

 

‘Left her and all the others at the party,’ he shrugs, flopping onto her bed.

 

Rey crosses her arms at his impertinence. ‘Do make yourself at home,’ she sneers.

 

He grins. ‘Oh, I intend to.’

 

She turns back to the kettle. ‘So, tell me. What did Kaydel think when you didn’t go back for your coffee this morning?’

 

‘What coffee?’ Ben asks, closing his eyes.

 

‘The one you were going to have. With her. After you’d shown me to your office.’

 

He shrugs. ‘She didn’t say anything.’

 

‘Does she know?’

 

‘Know what?’

 

‘About... about you and...’ Rey flushes. ‘About you and me.’

 

Abruptly, he leans up on his elbows, giving her a long, searching look.

 

‘What is there to tell, exactly?’

 

Rey opens her mouth, goes to answer, but finds nothing comes out. For a moment she stands, open-mouthed but silent, and when the kettle whistles, saving her from further embarrassment, she turns to it gratefully.

 

‘Do you want a tea?’ she asks him, clattering about with mugs and teabags and spoons, happy to keep her hands busy.

 

‘I didn’t come here for a fucking cup of tea, Starfish.’

 

Her hands are shaking when she turns back to him. ‘What are you here for, then?’

 

His gaze is hotter than the tea she’s clutching in her hand. ‘What do you think, Starfish?’

 

She bites her lip, and he stands with a sigh. He walks over to her, taking the mug from her hand and putting it on the side table. He turns back to her, rubbing her still warm hands, his body inexorably close to her own.

 

‘I came for you, Starfish.’

 

‘Oh,’ she exhales. ‘Oh,’ she breathes again.

 

He surprises her. He pulls her into his arms, wrapping her into a bear-hug, her head against his shoulder, his head resting against the top of her own. He breathes deeply, almost happily, and for a moment, she sinks into his arms without resistance. 

 

But only for a moment.

 

Because she knows the truth about what this is. The truth about what this can only ever be. 

 

She struggles away from him. ‘You... you don’t have to pretend,’ she says. ‘I’m not... not going to be...  _ difficult,  _ about all this.’

 

He goes to hold her again, before freezing at her words. ‘What do you mean?’ he says, his voice suddenly hard. ‘What do you mean...  _ all this _ ?’

 

‘Look,’ Rey gives a nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair. ‘Look, I get it. You and I have a... a sort of chemistry.’

 

‘Chemistry,’ Ben repeats, as though tasting the word.

 

‘Yes,’ Rey stands taller. ‘It’s actually quite common, in the marine world. Emperor penguins, for one, are serially monogamous. In fact, they’ll indulge in mirroring behaviour, and will mate, year after year, unless the other one... I don’t know, gets eaten by an Orca, or starves to death while brooding, or...’ she pauses, suddenly embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I do this. I ramble when I get nervous,’ she shrugs. ‘It makes me feel less... awkward somehow.’

 

Ben, when she looks up, is watching her intently. His voice is gentle when he speaks.

 

‘Tell me about the penguins,’ he asks her. ‘Tell me something interesting about them.’

 

She can’t help the small smile that crosses her face. It would be so easy to be mad at this man. He infuriates her, after all. 

 

But he’s also so unspeakably good with her. He seems to understand her, and she knows that he wants her, in this moment, to feel more relaxed.

 

‘Really?’ she whispers, and he nods.

 

‘Emperor penguins,’ he muses. ‘Interesting facts. Go.’

 

‘Umm... so, they can dive underwater for up to eighteen minutes,’ Rey begins, trying to ignore the fact that one of Ben’s hands has crept to the tie in her robe, pulling at it quietly. ‘And for nearly two months, at the end of their summer, they’ll feed nearly constantly in the ocean. The eat krill, and if current climate patterns continue, they’ll be facing extinction within one hundred years.’

 

‘Oh,’ by now, Ben’s hands have opened her robe, and his fingers are playing upon the taut skin of her stomach. ‘That’s sad,’ he says. ‘That’s one of the reasons I wanted to found the environmental concerns department at Resistance. We have money and influence,’ his fingers trails to the small of her back, and she shivers at his touch. ‘We should use them for good.’

 

Rey licks her lips, nodding. ‘They’re... they’re really hard to breed in captivity. Emperor penguins, that is. The conditions in which they hatch are insane, for one thing, and the conditions under which they mate-’

 

‘Tell me,’ Ben encourages her, one hand now skirting the fleshy mounds of her buttocks, a finger slipping between her folds, drawing a deep breath from the both of them.

 

‘Well... um...’ Rey inhales sharply when Ben’s finger slips inside her, and she feels herself grow weak. ‘The male will chase the female, for starters. And once they’ve made a commitment, once they’ve...’ she moans suddenly as Ben’s finger pulls out, as he pulls her body closer to his and leans down to latch a mouth around one of her breasts. ‘When they’re ready to... to  _ copulate, _ the male will bow down low before his mate, to show his loyalty to her, and... and...’

 

And Ben stops, releasing her nipple and giving her a strange look before stepping away from her.

 

‘Ben... what...?’ Rey asks, nearly frantic, desperate for the return of his hands and mouth and the feelings he was bringing out in her body.

 

He smiles at her. Smiles at her, before bowing low on the carpet before her, his head nearly touching the ground.

 

She’s speechless when he stands again, when he hauls her into his arms and throws her onto her bed.

 

‘Do you still want to talk about penguins, Starfish?’ he asks her, licking a stripe up her neck.

 

But Rey’s hands are already on his shirt, pulling it from his shoulders. ‘No,’ she whispers. ‘No, I don’t want to talk anymore at all.’

  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly the fact above is true. If climate change isn’t tackled, the Emperor Penguin will most likely be extinct in the wild by 2100.
> 
> The kiss is coming soon... just a bit more angst on the way first.


	5. Herring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nonsense really.
> 
> I just love writing Hux, okay?

For every good thing, there must be a crappy counterpart. This Rey knows to be true.

 

She had a good foster mother, one who brushed her hair and read her stories and pushed her into following her dreams. But she also had a terrible birth mother, one who beat her and neglected her and dumped her in a children’s home on the day of her seventh birthday. 

 

‘I’m just going to the corner shop,’ her Mum told her, a cigarette hanging from her chapped lips. ‘Silly me, I forgot your birthday candles. You wait here love, until I’m done.’

 

Rey, eyes wide with thoughts of cake and candles and presents, nodded enthusiastically. But there was no cake, no candles, no presents, and by the time evening rolled around and Rey was put to bed in a room with three other abandoned girls, no Mum either.

 

She still can’t hear ‘happy birthday’ without cringing.

 

She went to a good university and got good marks, enough to take on a post-graduate degree in marine biology. But degrees are expensive and students are poor, and so Rey worked three part-time jobs, one mind-numbing, one back-breaking, and one soul-destroying. 

 

She still can’t look at deep fat fryers without shuddering.

 

She found work almost immediately at  _ Resistance Futures,  _ in a role that allowed her to follow her passions and explore her interests. But it was for a company whose ultimate goal was profit, not planet-saving, and she went to bed every night with a pang of guilt.

 

She still can’t drive a car without hesitating.

 

She’s in love with a man who is handsome, attentive, and world-shiftingly good in bed. But he’s not in love with her, is all but engaged to another woman, and only calls Rey when he wants her.

 

And yet, she still can’t go to bed with him without coming almost violently, limbs and bodies tangled together, lips bruised and skin damp.

 

She’s lying in such a post-coital heap when her work phone beeps, and she reaches across Ben to pick it up, reading the message with a groan.

 

‘I have to go,’ she mutters. ‘There’s some paperwork to deal with at the office and-’

 

But Ben has tight a hold of her waist, and his hands- those large, long-fingered hands which have bled her of all kinds of pleasure- grip her harder.

 

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of administrative shit. Get an assistant,’ he mumbles into her skin. ‘You have a big enough budget to hire one.’

 

Rey stares at him, as though he is speaking a foreign language. ‘What?’

 

‘Hire an assistant,’ he says again. ‘You know, one of those organised, effective kinds of people who do all the legwork for you, so you can do mine,’ he reaches down, running his fingertips along her calf. ‘I like your legwork,’ he grins. ‘I think about your legwork all the time.’

 

She goes to swat his fingers from her skin, because really, hasn’t he touched her enough in the past three hours? But Ben only grins at her, bringing his hand back to her leg, pressing down harder this time. She rolls her eyes at him, swatting him away again, but her determination only seems to add fuel to his fire, and he laughs, using one hand to pin her to bed while the other mercilessly begins to tickle and pinch at her stomach.

 

Of course, he knows she’s ticklish. They’ve been sleeping together a few times a week since her move to New York a month ago, and there was even that all-too-brief, pleasure-laden weekend in London. She’d been in her flat, packing up her life and deciding what to do with her few beloved houseplants, when her doorbell sounded. She’d gone to it, expecting a delivery of Chinese food, when her mouth dropped open. Because Ben had been at the door, holding onto her bags of egg fried rice, braised lotus root and sea spicy aubergine, a look of pure want in his eyes.

 

‘Hungry again, are we Starfish?’ He’d asked her, one eyebrow raised.

 

‘Famished,’ she’d managed to reply, before the food was dropped to the floor, her shirt ripped open and Ben had her pressed up against the wall, fucking her hard.

 

They ate cold Chinese food hours later amongst the useless remains of their clothing, Rey tucked into the safe confines of Ben’s lap.

 

‘Ben, no -!’ She’s giggling now, trying to escape the torturous attack of his fingers, her body contorting under him, half-laughing, half-squealing. He’s laughing too, his hair falling softly across his eyes, and when she manages to roll away, when she manages to finally catch her breath, she looks back over her shoulder to find him staring at her strangely, his gaze warm and content.

 

She has to bite her lip to stop herself from leaning over and kissing him, then and there.

 

Because they have rules. They have to have rules. This arrangement between them won’t work without rules, unwritten and unspoken though they are. 

 

No detailed work talk.

 

No talk of friends or family.  _ Especially  _ Leia and Kaydel.

 

And no kissing. Never any kissing. 

 

It’s impersonal, what they’re doing, Rey has to remind herself. It doesn’t mean anything to either of them- or at least it shouldn’t, she tells herself again. It’s simply a sating of bodily desires with a person she finds beyond attractive. A meeting of two people with one end in mind. And like any other hunger, one day the need will pass, the appetite will change, and their time will be done. 

 

She swallows hard when she thinks of that day, nameless and sometime in the future, because occasionally, when she’s lying in Ben’s arms and it feels so real and right and romantic, she can’t imagine ever letting him go. 

 

Being with Ben has become as necessary to her well-being as eating food and drinking water, and shudders when she thinks of the inevitable day he will be done with her. The day when he commits fully to Kaydel, and the picture-perfect life she can provide for him. 

 

Rey’s throat feels tight, and she looks away from Ben’s searching eyes quickly, swinging out of bed and wrapping a robe around her body.

 

‘What is it?’ Ben asks, almost worriedly, and once again, Rey has to remind herself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t hers for anything more than the odd stolen evening, or early morning.

 

‘Nothing. You’re right,’ Rey replies, her voice tight. ‘I’ll hire an assistant.’

 

He blinks, and nods slowly. ‘Good. I can send some recommendations if you think you’ll need them-’

 

But Rey shakes her head quickly. ‘I can hire my own assistant. I’m not entirely helpless.’

 

‘I never said you were,’ Ben shrugs. ‘But we have a whole H.R department who can take care of this for you. Your time is valuable, Starfish.’

 

‘Well, you should know,’ Rey replies quickly, without thinking. ‘You take up enough of it.’

 

For a moment, her words hang unpleasantly in the air. Rey watches as Ben stiffens, before he too leaps out of her bed, searching out his clothes on the floor.

 

‘Ben-’ she begins, full of remorse, but he shakes his head at her. 

 

‘I better go,’ he tells her. ‘You aren’t the only one with things to do, or people to see, Rey.’

His use of her name stings. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively. ‘Kaydel?’ She asks, breaking one of their rules, and he stares at her, disbelief in his eyes, before giving an ugly laugh.

 

‘You honestly think I’d go straight from you to...’ he trails off, shaking his head once more. ‘Get an assistant, Starfish. You need all the help you can fucking get.’

 

He dresses with lightning quick speed, and no sooner is his sweater over his head than he’s leaving her room, leaving her apartment, and slamming the door behind him.

 

Rey stands in her bedroom, her fists clenched, tears building in her eyes.

 

She goes to his office later to apologise, but no sooner is she over the threshold of the door than he has her spread across his desk, his fingers pressed inside her body and his tongue skirting gently over her skin.

 

Rey could weep in that moment. Weep for how good it feels, for how right it feels, and for how much love she has for this all too close, yet impossibly out of reach man.

 

Great man. 

 

Great chemistry.

 

Great sex.

 

But for everything good thing, there must be it's crappy counterpart.

 

And where Ben is concerned, she’s starting to think it might just be her.

 

***

 

Armitage Hux has the organisational skills of an octopus on speed but the interpersonal skills of an agitated lobster and Rey is mostly terrified of him. 

 

He was sent up from H.R as Rey’s new assistant, and after five minutes in his company, Rey was ready to throw in the towel, pack up her things, and head back to London.

 

Outwardly, he’s the very image of respectability. Red-haired and pale-skinned, with cheekbones so sharp they could cut butter; his posture excellent, and his head held high. A designer jacket clung to his straight frame, while polished shoes peeped out from the beautifully stitched seams of his well-ironed trousers.

 

‘Are those... are those  _ hessians _ ?’ Rey gawks, staring at his feet. 

 

He glances down at his shoes, before looking back up at her like she was some kind of idiot.

 

‘Naturally,’ he drawls.

 

‘It’s just... I thought only heroes from tawdry bodice rippers wore hessian boots,’ Rey explains, and Armitage’s face fell into the lines of a well-practiced sneer.

 

‘Well,’ he shrugs. ‘I’ll be sure to let Fabio know I borrowed his shoes.’

 

She couldn’t look away from his feet. ‘So...’ she asks, ‘... you’re my new assistant?’

 

‘Obviously. I saw this role come up and I thought,  _ wow, Rey Johnson, I’ve just got to work for her _ ,’ he replies cheerily.

 

‘Really?’ Rey couldn’t help the glimmer of excitement that went down her spine. She’s always wanted to inspire people, particularly where marine welfare is concerned, and maybe this job-

 

But Armitage only rolls his eyes. ‘Fuck, no, not really,’ he swears. ‘I got a message from H.R two days ago saying I was being moved from Angela down on 38 to Rey up on 51. I worked for Angela for four years, you know. Had my office organised perfectly, just how I wanted it. But what does it matter? I simply go where the big wigs send me.’

 

‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ Rey swallows, trying to keep her wavering voice gentle. ‘You could always pop down to see Angela if you miss her. I won’t mind. She must be quite the person.’

 

He stares at her, his lip curling. ‘Miss her? She’s a wretched old witch who collects cats the way other people collect stamps. I can’t tell you how many times I went home covered in second-hand cat hair, my lint brush at home was practically ruined _._ _Ruined_ , I tell you.’ He eyes her warily, taking in her appearance.  ‘Do _you_ keep cats, by any chance?’

 

‘Umm, no?’ Rey replies. ‘I don’t have any pets, not really, well... I mean, I have a tank full of Herring larvae at home currently pupating, but they aren’t pets so much as -’

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Armitage holds up a hand to stop her from talking. ‘You keep a tank full of  _ herring larvae _ at home?’

 

‘Oh, yes,’ Rey grins, animated as always when discussing her work. ‘They’re terribly interesting. Oh, sorry, I should explain... you see, Herring larvae is the juvenile form of -’

 

‘I know what they are,’ Armitage interrupts her. ‘But in my circles, we don’t call them pets, we call them food.’

 

‘They’re not caviar,’ Rey immediately protests.

 

Armitage gives a huff of exasperation. ‘Darling, I’m wearing hessian boots. Do you think I don’t know what caviar is? No, herring eggs are basically two dollar slop that can and should only ever be used as a base for taramasalata. Why on Earth do you have a tank full of the fuckers at home, hmm?’

 

Rey stutters. ‘Umm... because that’s my job? You do realise what department I’m heading, right?’

 

‘Oh, yes, the  _ environmental concerns department,’  _ Armitage answers, his fingers making quote marks to show his disdain. ‘Like that isn’t a made up load of shit.’

 

Rey stares at him. ‘Why are you here?’ She asks him. ‘You hate me, you hate my work, and you clearly don’t want to be here.’

 

Armitage crosses his arms over his chest. ‘I’m here for three reasons. One, this office you’ve been given needs the Hux touch. Two, you need someone who can organise your life so you can keep pupating dollar store fish bait at home. And three,’ abruptly, he loses his voice, leaning in closely to her. ‘I’m here because Leia Organa wants someone to keep a close eye on you.’

 

Rey swallows hard. ‘Why?’ She whispers.

 

Armitage shrugs. ‘I don’t know, maybe it’s something to do with the way her son moved you into the office next to his. That’s a nice connecting door, by the way. Or maybe it’s because her son was the one who insisted on starting this department, and put your name forward as the best candidate for the role, despite your being- and I say this with respect-  _ vastly underqualified  _ for the role. Or maybe it’s because you don’t get where Leia Organa is in life without being sharp as a tack and observational.’

 

Now Rey crosses her arms in front of her chest.

 

‘You’re here to spy on me? Leia asked you to do that?’

 

‘No,’ Armitage exhales. ‘No, no, no. I’m not here to spy on you. I’m here to  _ organise  _ you, Miss Johnson. And that’s a good thing.’ His eyes drift over the badly cut, comfortable suit she has on. ‘You look like you could do with some organising. But, as Leia told me quite firmly over pornstar martinis yesterday, if I happen to come across- in my line of organisation duties- any evidence that you’re fucking her beloved son, I’m to let her know, posthaste.’

 

Rey feels a cold shiver of fear. Leia Organa is not a woman she wants to cross. 

 

‘I’m not... I’m not sleeping with Ben,’ she says weakly, and Armitage gives her a cool, calculating look. 

 

‘That’s Mr. Solo, to you, and of course you aren’t,’ he sighs, leaning even closer to her. ‘At least, not anymore, right?’

 

Rey nods blankly. ‘Right,’ she nods again. ‘Right.’

 

Great job.

 

Great office.

 

Great work.

 

But for every good thing, there must be a crappy counterpart.

 

And here, it looks like that might be Leia Organa, and Armitage Hux.

 

***

 

_ I’m coming to your place tonight, Starfish.  _ The message reads.  _ And then you’re going to come again, and again, and again. _

 

Rey’s fingers are tingling as she taps out a reply, which means her body is already gearing up to welcome Ben’s presence.

 

That, or the very thought of him has brought on a stroke.

 

_ Why not your place? _

 

She’s never been to his place. She has no idea where he even lives. It’s another one of the unspoken rules to their dalliance. They always use her room, and her bed, and he comes and goes when he pleases. 

 

She can’t help but wonder about his place. Is it tidy, or messy? Does it smell like him, earthy and magnetic, or like clean cotton, or expensive candles? Does he have a sofa he likes to sleep on, or is all his furniture sleek, uncomfortable, and made for show?

 

Does he have pictures of Kaydel on the walls? Is that where he takes her? Is that why Rey is never allowed?

 

_ Your place is closer,  _ his message says.  _ I need you sooner, rather than later. _

 

She hesitates, her hand trembling over the screen of her phone. She bites her lip and picks at a hangnail on her thumb. She should say no. She should end this, whatever this is.

 

But the next message is her undoing.

 

_ Please. _

 

***

 

Ben is loitering outside of his office when Rey and Armitage are getting ready to leave that Friday.

 

As Rey is shrugging on a white cardigan, Armitage swings a length of fabric around his body, the satin brushing against Rey’s thighs.

 

‘Is that  _ a cape _ ?’ Rey asks, as Armitage buttons it around his neck. 

 

He rolls his eyes. ‘I prefer to call it a cloak.’

 

‘Oh,’ she says, feeling stupid. ‘Oh. It’s very nice.’

 

He gives a humourless laugh. ‘Naturally.’

 

‘Well, have a nice weekend, Armie.’

 

He stops, turning back to her. ‘Oh, I’m sorry... are we on nickname terms now? I didn’t get that memo. Maybe because you’re so bad at sending them.’

 

‘Oh, well, I just thought, since we’re working together and everything...’

 

But Armitage’s face is tight with indignation. ‘What shall I call you? Rey is pretty damn short as it is. Hmm, let me guess? Sunshine? Flower? Maybe peanut? You look like the kind who’d appreciate such sentimental claptrap.’

 

‘No, um, Rey is fine.’

 

He shakes out the length of his cape- cloak, no, his cloak- and spins on the heels of his hessian boots. ‘No, it’s not. Enjoy your weekend, Miss Johnson.’

 

And with a straight-backed flourish, he disappears into the lift, before heading downwards into the bowels of the building.

 

‘Who the fuck is that?’ Ben exhales, suddenly at Rey’s side.

 

‘My new assistant,’ Rey explains.

 

Ben shakes his head. ‘I thought maybe it was a lost member of Spandau Ballet. Jesus, where did they dig him up?’

 

Rey continues to stare at the doors of the lift. ‘Your mother sent him. He’s spying on me.’

 

Ben raises an eyebrow at her. ‘What?’

 

‘Well, spying on us, more truthfully. She’s making sure our relationship is strictly professional.’

 

‘Our relationship?’ Ben breathes, and Rey hears the unspoken question in his voice. She winces.

 

‘No, I didn’t mean... I know we aren’t in a  _ relationship,  _ of course I do, I mean - ’

 

‘Look, Rey -’

 

‘- it’s not like we date or anything. We’ve never even seen a movie together, or had dinner- oh, except for San Antonio, but that wasn’t really a date, was it?- anyway, you don’t have to say anything, or explain. I get it, okay?’

 

Ben is staring at her, his eyes intense, his voice suddenly low. ‘What do you get?’ 

 

She clears her throat. ‘That we’re just, you know, you and I. It doesn’t mean anything, not to either of us, and when it’s done there won’t be any hurt feelings or... or... or  _ dramatics,  _ I guess. Not from me, anyway, and - ’

 

‘Got it,’ Ben suddenly cuts in. ‘We’re just fucking, and it doesn’t mean anything to you. Got it, loud and clear, Rey.’

 

She nods, although abruptly she feels bereft, a sting of hurt under her skin. Because she wants to say that no, it doesn’t mean anything to her. She wants to tell him that it means  _ everything  _ to her. That he is close to becoming her world. That she goes to sleep thinking of him, and wakes with his name on her breath. That she loves him, and loves when he’s near to her. That she’s desperate to kiss him, to feel his lips upon hers, and keep them forever to herself.

 

But just as she opens her mouth, the lift arrives with a ding, and Ben pushes her in. ‘Let’s go to your place and just fuck, okay Starfish?’

 

And all Rey can do is nod.

 

He’s a great man.

 

They have great sex.

 

It should be the perfect, emotionless arrangement.

 

But for every good thing, there must be a crappy counterpart.

 

And right now, it’s that she loves him, and that this- whatever this is- can only lead to hurt.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst will up again next chapter.x


	6. Jellyfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I took my kids to Disney last week and it just didn’t feel right to post smut while in the happiest place on Earth (although I did read it there, because come on, it’s the happiest place on Earth and reading is good for the soul).

The first time it nearly happens, Rey’s drunk.

 

Mind-stingingly, blood-heatingly drunk.

 

It’s a party at Resistance, a leaving do for some guy she doesn’t know from a department she’s never heard of on a floor she’s never even visited. But there’s free flowing wine and champagne to be drunk and plates of exquisitely laid out sushi to be eaten, and Rey has never been one to turn down a free meal. 

 

The only person she knows there is Armitage, who ditches her as soon as the lift doors open, snaking over to stand by some girl who is wearing what Rey could only describe as a leather onesie trimmed with peacock feathers. He leans in close to the girl’s ear, and pointedly nods in Rey’s direction. ‘That’s  _ her, _ ’ he says, in the loudest whisper Rey’s ever heard. ‘The one I was telling you about.’

 

The girl gives Rey a long look up and down before descending into a fit of giggles, and Rey swallows awkwardly, before turning on her heel and searching out the canapés. A glass of wine is pressed into her hand and she takes it blindly, knocking the Sancerre back with lightning speed. The waiter seems visibly impressed, and raises an eyebrow at her.

 

‘Bad day?’ 

 

‘Something like that,’ Rey replies, and he startles.

 

‘Oh, you’re British,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘Well, that explains everything.’

 

When he refills her glass, he does so to the top, and when she drinks again, a long sip that drains half her glass, he simply hands her the rest of the bottle. ‘Here you go, old chap,’ he says with a wink, in a bad attempt at a Cockney accent, and Rey hides a grimace.

 

She ends up in a chair in the corner of an abandoned conference room, drinking steadily, while picking at a plate of slightly dry sushi. Through the glass window she sees Ben walk into the party, Kaydel on his arm, the petite blonde looking stunning in a slinky red dress. 

 

The dress fits her almost as well as Ben does, Rey thinks, her stomach lurching painfully. He’s suited up, his hair clean, soft, and falling in gentle waves around his shoulders. He and Kaydel look like the perfect power couple, Rey realises. He’s so dark, so tall and broad, while she’s so petite, so lithe and golden. Rey licks her lips, realising they’ve gone dry, that her mouth is suddenly devoid of moisture. 

 

She tears her eyes from Ben and Kaydel, looking back to the wine before her. At that moment, it feels like all the answers to her problems could be found at the bottom of the bottle, and she gives a bitter laugh, the sound ringing out over the empty conference room, as she fills her glass again.

 

She’s slumped over the table, half-asleep but mostly drunk, when she feels an arm wrap itself around her, and a soft pair of lips brush against her neck.

 

‘Starfish,’ a low voice fills her ear. ‘Why are you hiding away again?’

 

She lifts her head, resting one side of her face against a lazy elbow, and Ben’s face pulls into focus gradually.

 

‘I don’t belong here,’ she says with a sigh. ‘This isn’t my world.’

 

He sighs, brushing the hair from her eyes with gentle fingers, his touch soft and reassuring.

 

‘Starfish -’

 

‘It’s true,’ Rey continues mournfully. ‘I don’t belong here. I don’t fit in anywhere. I never have,’ she swallows heavily. ‘I don’t think I ever will, Ben.’

 

Ben considers her for a moment, before sweeping her into his arms. He sits back in the chair he’s just pulled her from, settling her in his lap and against his chest, one hand pulling through the length of her hair.

 

‘You fit here,’ he says softly, squeezing her middle. ‘You fit perfectly, in fact.’

 

She turns her face up to look at him. The room is dark, and his outline is blurry, a shimmer of light giving him hazy silhouette. She can hear the noise of the party in the distance, but it’s a gentle hum, and she’s warm here in Ben’s arms. She brings a hand up to his cheek, and he presses into her palm, kissing the soft flesh as he does so. 

 

‘Jellyfish,’ she exhales lightly, closing her eyes, and she hears Ben give a small laugh.

 

‘You’re drunk, Starfish.’

 

‘No... no, no, no,’ she protests, before, feeling once again that hazy warmth, she almost smiles. ‘Well, yes, yes I am, I suppose. But I just meant... you... you’re like a jellyfish.’

 

She feels his lazy smile against her cheek. ‘You’re going to have to help me out with that one, Starfish.’

 

She opens her eyes, looking directly into his. His gaze is hot, searching and curious all at once, and she flushes gently. ‘There’s this lake, in Peru. Or was it Panama? Or...’ she bit her lip, trailing off and thinking hard for a moment. ‘Wait,’ she tells him. ‘It’s Palau.’

 

‘Palau?’

 

‘Pacific Ocean. Island nation,’ Rey answers, somewhat absently. ‘Anyway, there’s this lake there. And it’s full, absolutely chockablock, with jellyfish.’

 

Ben runs a fingertip over her lips, and Rey smiles at his caress. ‘Chockablock?’ He queries, and she laughs. 

 

‘An old nautical term. British, from Greenwich, probably. It means when something is pressed so tightly to something else, you can’t move.’

 

He squeezes her middle once more. ‘Like you and me, you mean,’ he whispers against her skin. She pauses, feeling a tingle in her body where Ben’s fingers are tracing lazy circles on her arm. ‘Tell me more about the jellyfish,’ he encourages her lightly.

 

‘So, the jellyfish, in this lake in Palau... evolutionarily speaking, they’ve been separated from other species of jellyfish so long that they’ve developed differently.’

 

‘Differently?’ Ben presses a kiss to her elbow, before moving up to her shoulder. ‘Different how?’

 

Rey sits up, somewhat awkwardly, putting two hands on Ben’s shoulders to steady herself. ‘They don’t sting, Ben,’ she says, in a voice full of wonder. ‘They’re physically incapable of hurting us, or one another. Isn’t that amazing? You can swim in a lake full of luminescent, silly-smooth jellyfish, and not feel an ounce of pain for such pleasure.’

 

Ben smiles at her, before frowning, ever-so-slightly.

 

‘You said I was like them? These jellyfish?’

 

‘Ah,’ Rey closes her eyes again, leaning back on Ben once more. ‘Jellyfish, on most occasions, have a painful, sometimes deadly sting. But, under the right circumstances... they can be beautiful, they can be peaceful, and they can be the gentlest creature on earth. Like you,’ she muses, opening her eyes again. ‘You seem so hard, so stern most of the time... but under it all, you’re just a gentle, bouncy moon jellyfish.’

 

Ben smiles, a true smile that reaches the corner of his eyes, and Rey gently traces the line his happiness leaves in his skin. ‘Starfish?’ He nudges her forehead with his own.

 

‘Hmm?’

 

‘You’re drunk.’

 

Rey nods sheepishly. ‘Yes, jellyfish,’ she replies. ‘I think you’re right.’

 

He grins at her. ‘I’m going to take you home.’

 

He lifts her, two arms wrapping themselves around her middle, and helps her stand. Momentarily, the room spins around her and she clutches at Ben, who tightens his hold on her.

 

‘It’s okay,’ he breathes against her cheek. ‘I’ve got you.’

 

‘I know,’ she nods, a little helplessly. ‘Ben?’

 

‘Yes, Starfish?’ 

 

She looks up, gazing into his eyes, abruptly serious. ‘I’m never going to fit in here, you know,’ she says sadly. ‘You can dress me in suits and put me in the office next to yours and give me a large salary and budget and an assistant but I’m never going to fit in here. This isn’t my world. I’m never going to be that girl for you.’

 

He swallows heavily. ‘But it’s my world, Starfish. This will always be my world.’

 

‘I know,’ she replies softly, running a hand along the curve of his cheek, pressing a kiss to the point of his jaw. ‘It’s your world, but it’s not mine.’

 

He regards her quietly for a moment. 

 

She sighs. ‘Nobody wants me here, not really. Not your mother, or the teams of staff I’m suddenly managing, or even my own bloody assistant...nobody wants me. Nobody’s ever wanted me and nobody is ever going to want me and -’

 

‘ _ I want you _ ,’ Ben says fiercely, and she melts a little against him.

 

‘Thank you,’ she exhales. ‘Thank you for saying that. I know you don’t mean it, but thank you.’

 

A moment passes between them, the air around them suddenly swirling thick and warm. Ben’s eyes are dark, his lips tantalisingly close, and Rey allows her eyes to linger on the soft pads of flesh, biting her own. 

 

‘Rey, look...’ Ben begins softly, but Rey, still staring at his lips, presses a finger against them, stopping him.

 

‘No,’ she whispers. ‘No, shh, don’t say anything. Don’t spoil it.’

 

She leans forward, intent on kissing him, intent on laying claim to his lips and pulling their relationship - if that is even what their arrangement could be called - to the next level. But no sooner has her top lip brushed ever-so-slightly against his lower one than Ben is jumping back, holding her away from him and regarding her with sad, placating eyes.

 

A rush of humiliation, crushing and intense, courses through her. Rey inhales deeply, her legs shaky without Ben’s weight to steady her, brushing a hand through her hair and laughing bitterly.

 

‘Oh,’ she says quietly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought -’

 

Ben reaches out, running a finger down the curve of her cheek.

 

‘If you had any idea what it would mean to me...’ he says, his voice low. Abruptly, he sighs. ‘But you don’t. And you’re drunk. And...’ his eyes travel from her to the conference room door, and Rey can hear the sweet, sing-song voice of Kaydel over the hum of the party. She stiffens, pushing Ben’s hand from her skin.

 

‘It’s okay,’ she replies, her voice hard. ‘You don’t have to do this. I get it. I really do.’

 

She reaches down to the floor, retrieving her coat and bag, stumbling on unsteady feet. Ben flinches, extending an arm to her, which she pointedly ignores.

 

‘This won’t happen again,’ she assures him. ‘I’m just drunk, that’s all. It was a mistake.’

 

Ben opens his mouth as though to protest, but Rey, hurt and wanting to hurt in return, doesn’t let him speak.

 

‘You’re always a mistake I’m making,’ she says cruelly. ‘Every time you leave me, I say to myself, well, I won’t make that mistake again.’ She looks him hard in the eye. ‘And then you want me again and I do.’

 

‘A mistake?’ He asks, a dangerous glint to both his voice and eye. ‘Fucking me is a mistake, is it, Starfish?’

 

‘No,’ Rey answers clearly. ‘No. But letting you leave afterwards always feels like one.’

 

She’s on the verge of tears; she can feel them building, like little drops of truth, ready to fall down her cheeks and expose her for the sentimental fool she truly is. But she refuses to cry in front of him; refuses to let him see how deep the river of her affection for him runs. And so she turns, walking towards the door, closing her eyes tightly for a small moment, so that she can stop herself from crying.

 

But in that moment, Ben acts.

 

His hand is upon her shoulder, spinning her towards him, and then he’s cupping her face, angling it towards him and the light.

 

‘So don’t let me leave,’ he says earnestly. ‘Don’t push me away, Starfish.’ He brushes his fingers over her cheeks, as though to brush the tears she won’t let him see from her skin. ‘I’m your jellyfish, remember? I’m not going to hurt you.’

 

But Rey can’t quite meet his gaze.

 

‘People are always saying that to me,’ she whispers. ‘That they won’t hurt me. That they won’t leave me,’ she shakes her head sadly. ‘But then they always do. Words are cheap, Ben. You should know that.’

 

‘You haven’t even given me a chance,’ Ben whispers back. ‘Let me prove to you that I won’t hurt you.’

 

He nuzzles at her neck, his breath warm against her skin. His fingers interlace with hers, firm and reassuring, as he pulls her into an embrace.

 

But this time it's Rey who jumps back, bringing a hand to her mouth and biting on her thumbnail.

 

‘I don’t think we should do this anymore,’ she says, her voice clear, an unnaturally high sound in the low light and soft ambiance of this forgotten corner of the building. 

 

‘Starfish...’

 

‘No, I mean it,’ Rey stands taller. ‘I don’t... I don’t think I want this, Ben. This life. This office. This job. This...’

 

‘Me,’ he adds blankly. ‘You were going to add me to that list, right?’

 

She stares at him, and he gives a bitter exhale. 

 

‘For someone who claims to always get hurt by others, you do a damn fine job of the act yourself, Starfish. No, not Starfish,’ he shakes his head at her. ‘Jellyfish, but with a sting. Fine.’

 

He steps towards the door, running his hands along the length of his shirt, as though to brush her, and the lingering feel of her skin, from his body.

 

‘Fine,’ he says again. ‘We were a mistake. It won’t happen again. Do what you want, Rey. Stay, or run back to your rigs. Isolate yourself from the world. Like I give a fuck, right?’

 

By default she reaches out, one hand held towards him, searching for the warm, hard planes of his body.

 

But he spins away before she can touch him, before her fingers can make contact with the familiarity of his flesh and they make another mistake all over again, right here on the barren conference room floor.

 

‘Fuck you, Rey,’ he breathes out, before walking away, slamming the door behind him.

 

And she’s left holding nothing, one hand lingering in the warm air where he once stood, tears finally sliding down her cheek.

 

Tears that finally expose her for the fool she is.

 

For the fool she will always be.

 

***

 

The second time it nearly happens, Ben’s at breaking point.

 

Rey knows this because she’s seen him around the office, shouting at his juniors, running a hand through his thick, dark hair so that it is constantly mussed. His face is pale and drawn, his lips set into tight lines, while his shoulders look hunched, weighed down by work and life and expectations.

 

A deal has fallen through in the Gulf, and Resistance Future’s stock lost four points overnight. The atmosphere is tense at work, and Rey keeps her head down, lost in her own little world of marine facts and figures. Poe Dameron has sent over some disappointing data on Orca numbers in Alaska, and Rey’s trying to figure out how to make a light, positive article out of a report which basically tells her that this species is ultimately doomed.

 

She hasn’t talked to Ben in a little over four weeks, and she’s missing him horribly. Of course, she misses the sex, misses the feel of his body as it slides against hers, but it isn’t the same as just missing  _ him _ , and she tosses and turns at night, hoping against hope that he’ll call her, even if only to yell at her.

 

She misses him.

 

She loves him.

 

She wants him, in anyway she can have him.

 

He must miss her too, she realises occasionally. Sometimes she’ll see him watching her from his office, his eyes dark and intent through the panes of glass. Once, they shared an elevator together, standing in opposite corners of the airless box, Armitage wedged firmly between them. Armitage was wearing a tiger print suit with a blue trimmed, red woolen scarf, looking like an anemic Tony the Tiger having a really off fucking day, and Rey met Ben’s eyes over her frosted flake nightmare of an assistant, finding mirth and amusement in their brown depths. She’d smiled, and she’d thought he might smile back, thought she’d seen his lips begin to turn upwards, a flicker of happiness crossing his face.

 

But he’d cleared his throat and turned away, his face settling back into it's now usual harsh lines. And Rey had bitten hard on her lip, looking at the floor, while Armitage nodded his approval beside her.

 

‘Good to know you can follow instructions,’ Armitage said to her later. ‘Leia will be pleased to know you and Ben are no longer... _ using your connecting doors _ , as it were.’

 

Rey shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about Ben. Especially not with this man, Leia’s little spy. ‘Look, let’s just get on with work today, okay? This Orca report isn’t going to write itself and...’

 

And Armitage gave a dramatic sigh, holding out a manicured hand for the folder in Rey’s hand.

 

‘Honestly, fuck the Orca,’ Armitage sneered. ‘If they weren’t the fucking pandas of the sea they’d be in tuna fish sandwiches everywhere from North Pole to south.’

 

Rey stared at him. ‘They’re Orca,’ she’d replied, in disbelief. ‘They’re deeply intelligent animals with complex social systems and...’

 

‘So are cows, darling,’ Armitage interrupted her. ‘But people still eat burgers and wear leather shoes. Hmm. I wonder, could one make shoes out of Orca skin?’

 

Rey glanced up and down at Armitage, taking in his tiger print suit with a new feeling of horror.

 

‘I don’t... umm, I don’t know.’

 

He shook his head at her. ‘And you call yourself a marine biologist.’

 

Another three weeks, and Rey is beside herself with longing for Ben. She’s one step away from calling him and begging him to come and see her. Begging him to tie her up and fuck her, ready to assure him that she’ll once again play by the rules, those unwritten words that defined the perimeters of their arrangement.

 

But she doesn’t get that far. One evening, just after Rey’s ordered pizza, intent on replacing meaningful sex with meaningless carbs, her buzzer sounds and she opens her door, finding Ben on the other side.

 

He looks like shit, his eyes bloodshot with overwork and tiredness, his face drawn with worry. He stares at her from her doorway, opening his mouth as though to speak several times, before closing it and staring at her, clearly pondering what to say. 

 

‘Ben?’ She finally asks, compassionate and warm, and he seems to melt a little at her tone.

 

‘I need you,’ he tells her, blankly and without preamble.

 

He doesn’t need to say anything else. She opens her door wider, allowing him in, before closing it behind him, leaning against her wall and staring at him.

 

‘I need you,’ he says again, and she nods, because yes, of course he does.

 

She needs him too.

 

‘How?’ She asks him, even though she already knows.

 

‘Everything’s gone to shit at Resistance,’ he says bluntly, without answering her question.

 

She shrugs. ‘It will get better. Things always do.’

 

‘My mother...’ Ben begins, awkwardly. ‘She thinks I’m ready to take over... thinks I’m ready for her world... but Rey,’ he shakes his head, ‘Rey, I’m an Engineer at heart. I only ever wanted to be an Engineer. Not a CEO or President or Vice President or Oil Baron, and...’

 

‘But you are those things,’ Rey tells him. ‘You can’t escape your past, anymore than I can.’

 

He looks at her with wide eyes. ‘Sometimes I think about leaving again. About running off to First Order. Back to the rigs and engineering,’ he licks his lips, his eyes looking deep into hers. ‘Taking you with me.’

 

She nods. Sometimes she wants to go back to that night- their first night- too.

 

But she knows they can’t.

 

‘You won’t run away. Not again,’ she says, and he nods at the truth in her words.

 

‘No,’ he agrees. ‘No, I won’t run again.’

 

For a moment they stare at each other. ‘What can I do for you, Ben?’ Rey eventually asks, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her middle.

 

‘I just feel so out of control,’ he whispers. ‘Everything feels too hard, Rey.’

 

She swallows at his unspoken inference. ‘You... you want to control something?’

 

He nods, looking miserable. Looking for all the world like he hates himself, in that moment.

 

But she feels what he feels too. And she can’t hate herself for wanting what he wants; can’t hate him for wanting it, when sometimes, at night, it's all she can think about.

 

And so she shrugs out of her cardigan, her arms prickling in the cool evening air, handing the garment to Ben.

 

‘Tie the sleeves around my eyes,’ she instructs him. ‘Tight, so that I can’t see.’

 

He nods, licking his lips. ‘And then?’ He asks hungrily, his voice hoarse.

 

She shrugs. ‘Control me.’

 

He steps forward, caressing her arms gently, her body singing with relief and pleasure at his touch again, before he brings his hands up to her ears, looping the cotton cardigan around her face. He covers only her eyes, leaving her nose and mouth free, and she feels his lips hover close to hers.

 

‘Such a good girl,’ he whispers, and she can feel the movement of his lips, so tantalisingly close to hers. ‘Such a good Starfish for me.’

 

He hauls her up into his arms, carrying her with ease into her bedroom, lowering her gently onto her bed. He kneels over her, the press of his thighs hard against hers, stroking her cheek with one delicate finger.

 

‘I love playing with you,’ he tells her softly. ‘You know how much I love...?’

 

But she turns her head, squirming impatiently beneath him, desperate for his hands on her body.

 

‘Please, hurry,’ she interrupts, whimpering slightly. 

 

But he tuts above her. ‘That’s not how our game goes, Starfish.’

 

She inhales sharply when she feels him give a gentle pull on one of her nipples. ‘Teach me, then?’ She begs.

 

She doesn’t need her eyes to see the grin she knows he’s wearing. She can feel it, just as she can then feel his mouth, hot and wet, as he pulls down her shirt and begins to suck at her breasts.

 

She gasps, reaching her hands up and running them through his hair. He bites down a little, making her moan, before he trails kisses down her abdomen.

 

She arches her back when he buries his head between her thighs, throwing a hand back to steady herself against the mattress.

 

She wraps her legs around his waist when he buries himself inside her to the hilt, fucking her raw, his hips slamming so hard against her she’s sure she’ll be bruised for days.

 

She throws her arms around his neck when he shifts their position, settling her in his lap, biting at her neck before pulling at the bind around her eyes.

 

The lamplight is low, but still offensive to her eyes when he removes the mock blindfold. For a moment she blinks in the sudden brightness, before the image of Ben clears before her. He’s damp with perspiration, his hair sticking slightly to his skin, his cheeks flushed. She reaches up, cupping one of his cheeks with her hand, keeping her other arm snaked around his neck. 

 

He kisses the hand close to his mouth, before pushing up into her again, making her throw her head back in pleasure.

 

‘No, look at me,’ he orders, and she nods, glancing back down, holding his gaze, their eyes merely an inch apart, foreheads pressed together. They stare at each other while fucking, and at one point, when her body is so tightly coiled she’s ready to scream with ecstasy, he brushes her lips with his own. She parts her lips, ready to welcome his tongue against her own, ready to be kissed as brutally as he fucks, when he gives an unexpected growl, dropping her to the mattress.

 

‘Not like this,’ he exhales, and he pins her hands above her as he pounds into her, her body abruptly uncoiling, her orgasm shaking through her unexpectedly, making him cry out as he empties himself into her simultaneously.

 

Afterwards, when they’re lying together, quiet and thoughtful and delightfully sticky, Ben pulls her close to him.

 

‘Starfish,’ he whispers into her ear. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

 

The third time, there’s no nearly about it.

 

Not even close.

 

It happens.

 

Rey kisses him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skating towards the end of act two and my ‘Everything is lost moment’. Next chapter is called ‘Sea Slug’.


	7. Sea Slug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I’m so, so sorry...

Kissing Ben Solo once leads to kissing Ben Solo a hell of a lot more.

 

After that first press of her lips against his - her eyes fluttering closed, her heart pounding in her chest and her fingers resting tentatively on his naked skin - she’d opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. 

 

She’d instantly faltered, backing away from him, drawing the sheet over her chest.

 

‘God, Ben, I’m so sorry -’

 

But the words were hardly out of her mouth before Ben pounced, ripping the sheet out of her hands, drawing it away from her body and rolling her onto her back. He settled his weight between her thighs, caging her face between his arms, looking at her intently.

 

‘Do it again,’ he’d ordered, and Rey, unable to do anything but say  _ yes  _ when he used that voice - that wretchedly sexy, obeyable voice - pressed her lips to his once more, this time allowing her mouth to open, letting Ben slip his tongue inside, touching hers.

 

It was like pure electricity jolting down Rey’s spine, and she exhaled softly, a quiet moan of pleasure, but also of relief. 

 

Because there was something incredibly right about kissing Ben Solo, something that made her blood sing and her heart pound and her body coil up with both desire and a sense of homecoming. And Ben... well, he seemed similarly affected, his kiss turning from soft to brutal in a matter of minutes, his body hardening beneath her touch until he was slipping inside her. His lips hardly left hers while he fucked her gently, his hands cupping her face, his eyes trained on hers, growing darker and more intense as Rey’s soft pants turned into gasps and cries of his name.

 

When she came, it was with him, their lips still touching as they fell apart together. When it was finished, and they could at last again draw breath, she’d gazed at him in wonder.

 

‘Ben,’ she’d whispered, her voice hoarse, and he’d kissed her once more, silencing words she didn’t even have, clearing her mind of anything other than him.

 

‘New rules,’ he then said, nudging her nose with his own. ‘We kiss at the beginning, we kiss at the end, and we kiss all the way throughout. I’m never fucking you again without kissing you, understand?’

 

She understood, externally nodding while internally wincing. 

 

Because it was the first time Ben had ever acknowledged their ‘rules’. 

 

The first time he’d ever acknowledged that this was an arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.

 

And even as he kissed her again, her name crossing his lips, his hands skating tenderly over her skin, Rey felt hope shrivel and die within her.

 

It was an arrangement. There were rules to be followed, so that neither of them - or anyone else - got hurt. So that they could walk away, when this was done, with no hard feelings, or any lingering sense of regret.

 

Rey kissed Ben in return, all the while hardening the protective shell she kept around her skin a little more.

 

It was an arrangement, she told herself sternly.

 

Nothing more.

 

So, when he asked to stay the night, she felt no hesitation in turning him down, in asking him to find his clothes and return to his own home.

 

He looked stung, his mouth falling open, before he shook his head, a bitter and unpleasant laugh huffing from his lips.

 

‘Starfish giveth,’ he muttered, as he stepped into his pants, wincing slightly. ‘But Rey taketh away.’

 

‘What the hell does that mean?’ she’d asked, a little more sharply than she intended.

 

Ben gave her a look that was ripe with anger, and a little disbelief.

 

‘You know something, Rey...’ he began, before he stopped, his face falling as still as his mouth, staring at her as though considering something. After a moment, he shook his head. 

 

‘Forget it,’ he said bluntly. ‘I don’t think you’d understand, even if I spelled it out for you.’

 

She stared back at him, biting her lip, tears stinging her eyes.

 

‘What are we even doing, Ben?’ she asked quietly, and something in his eyes softened.

 

‘You tell me,’ he replied, watching her carefully.

 

She opened her mouth, before closing it abruptly. It was on the tip of her tongue to be honest, to lay all her cards on the table, to confess all her feelings, wrong and misplaced though they clearly were.

 

To tell him everything, and then watch him walk out of the door anyway, she reminded herself bitterly.

 

She’d already had a lifetime of the people she loved leaving her.

 

She didn’t think she could bear to watch Ben do it too.

  
  


‘Well,’ she looked down with a sigh, staring at the floor, but really, at nothing in particular at all. ‘We have an arrangement, I suppose.’

 

‘An arrangement,’ Ben’s voice drifted over to her, and she looked up, to see him gazing at her, the lines of his face hard and unyielding. ‘An arrangement,’ he said again, as though trying the words the way one would a fine wine.

 

Or a bitter wine, in this case.

 

‘An arrangement. That’s how you...’ he trailed off, shaking his head once more, shrugging his shirt over his head. ‘Well, lucky for you, arrangements can be cancelled.’

 

Rey felt a sudden, irrational flare of panic. ‘Are you finished with me?’ she asked, instantly reaching out to him, one hand on his.

 

He looked at where her hand touched his; looked at her fingers, small and tanned, swallowed up by his. ‘No,’ he exhaled. ‘No, God help me, but I’m not finished with you yet.’

 

Abruptly, he kissed her again, pulling her head roughly towards his and shoving her hard against the wall. He lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, before unzipping his fly and pushing away her dressing gown.

 

He took her against the wall, hard and fast and charged, until Rey was breathless, clinging to his shoulders and begging into his ear, even though they’d had sex twice already that night, even though they were both sore, and a little heartsore too, even though he was still mostly dressed, even though she already felt so stretched to breaking point that there was no way she felt she could possibly fall apart in his arms again.

 

But fall she does, coming so violently that Ben kissed the keening sounds from her mouth, swallowing them up whole. 

 

Just another little piece of her that he owned, in the end.

 

He left her with another brutal kiss on the mouth, before slamming the door in her face, without a second glance in her direction.

 

And Rey went back to her bedroom, climbing under the covers that smelled so much like him, and cried until her alarm sounded, and it was time to go back into work.

 

***

 

It becomes a kind of dance, in a way.

 

At work, they steadfastly ignore one another, only speaking when they absolutely have to. Rey stops going to office events, while Ben goes to more, Kaydel on his arm, his mother smiling in the background. There’s a grim kind of courtesy between them, if ever they are forced to converse in front of other people, a generic back and forth that makes Rey thank Christ she was born British, that she has the perfect background and training in ultra polite bullshit. To everyone around them, they’re just Ben, heir to Resistance Enterprises, and Rey, the slightly quirky, quiet marine biologist who is clearly way out of her depth in a role she hates. Their colleagues smile warmly at Ben and nod politely at Rey, never for one second imagining that the two could be linked in any way other than professionally. 

 

By day they waltz, keeping a respectable arms length from one another, their bodies stiff and unnatural, their footing certain and practiced.

 

But by night.

 

By night, they tango.

 

Their evenings always start the same. Ben will arrive at Rey’s place a little before ten, pulling his tie from his neck, slinging his jacket onto the back of a chair. Sometimes, they’ll drink a glass of wine, speaking briefly about their day. Sometimes it's coffee, when they’ve both put in a sixteen hour day and anything more than the relief a good fucking will bring are beyond them. 

 

Their evenings always end the same too, with sharp, hard thrusts, moans carrying across the air, damp skin pressed to damp skin, and Rey, filled to the brim with Ben, in every way possible. She’s left breathless and sated and yet always wanting more, and she thinks he might feel the same, judging by the way he stares at her when he thinks she’s not looking. Eyes that are full of admiration and wonder. Eyes that are full of longing.

 

She wonders how long it will take for them to satisfy this eternal wanting.

 

She wonders  _ if _ they can ever satisfy this eternal wanting.

 

Yes, their evenings start the same and they always end the same, but everything in the middle, the hours and hours they spend playing the other’s body like a finely tuned instrument... that is always changing. That is always different. That is always surprising. 

 

One evening she’s pouring their wine in the kitchen, when she feels Ben behind her. He lifts her dress up and pushes her onto the counter, and his hand is in her hair while he fucks her from behind, kissing her neck, her ear, whatever skin he can reach, all the while.

 

Another night he drags her into the shower, running soapy hands over her body, watching and learning for the places that make her twitch in his arms, or sigh into his skin. They don’t make it to the bed, only so far as her bathroom floor, the tiles slick and warm under their weight, and her downstairs neighbour files a noise complaint the next day.

 

One time he comes to the door and she’s crying over a movie. He brushes the tears from her skin before making the tea, and he watches her while she drinks it, asking her if she’s okay, if she needs anything, if he can do anything to make her feel better. He stands to leave but she begs him to stay, taking him to her bed and lying next to him. She sobs into his shoulder and he sighs as he brushes her hair from her face.

 

‘This isn’t just about a movie, is it Starfish?’ he eventually whispers, and Rey only sobs harder, until his shirt is wet with her tears and he has to take it off. She takes her shirt off too, even though he tells her not to, that they don’t have to, that it doesn’t always have to be about -

 

‘Please just kiss me,’ she asks him, and as he obliges, Rey starts to imagine that maybe he isn’t always in control, that maybe she has just as much sway over him as he does her, and that maybe, just maybe, there is something good here, something beyond these sordid nights and ultra-cool days.

 

Something worth fighting for, perhaps. 

 

She decides to tell him. Decides to confess all. It might cost her him, she realises. It might cost her the nights she has come to depend upon almost as much as she depends upon food and water. It might cost her everything they have. All the pieces of him he can offer.

 

But then, it might win her everything too. And she’s at the stage now of needing everything, or walking away. 

 

Because she doesn’t know how much more of the dance she can take.

 

She texts him to meet her later, at a restaurant they both know of, and if Ben’s surprised by the change in their arrangement, he conceals it well. His reply is both enthusiastic but also courteous, and she smiles as she puts down her phone.

 

Only to pick it up again, a moment later, when a message flashes dangerously across her screen.

 

She swallows hard as she reads it, her heart sinking, exhaling deeply.

 

Leia wants to see her.

 

***

 

‘I’m cutting your budget.’

 

Leia is, as always, alarmingly on the ball and alarmingly to the point, and Rey hasn’t even sat down, hasn’t even said hello, when Leia throws four words into the air and then waves her away, like she is nothing more than an errant fly before her face.

 

‘What? What did you say?’ Rey stammers, and Leia stares at her, her face hard, her mouth set into its usual bored lines.

 

‘I said, I’m cutting your budget,’ Leia replies slowly, like Rey is some kind of idiot, and Rey’s mouth opens and closes, while she digests this news.

 

‘You’re... you’re cutting my budget?’

 

‘Mmm,’ Leia flicks through papers absently, not even looking at Rey now. ‘Let’s just say that after our recent stock market hit, I’ve had to look at our expenditure and tidy up any,’ now her eyes do look up, lingering on Rey with malicious intent. ‘Any  _ unnecessary  _ expenditure.’

 

‘Am I out of a job?’ Rey asks instantly. ‘Are you cutting the whole department?’

 

Leia shrugs. ‘I should,’ she says easily. ‘But I won’t.’

 

‘Why not?’ Rey asks, although she knows the answer already.

 

She just wants to hear Leia say it.

 

‘Ben came back to Resistance under the proviso that I put more effort into our environmental impact. If I close your department, he’ll never forgive me. So, luckily for you, I won’t. But still, I am cutting your budget. By half.’

 

‘Half?’ Rey’s voice is more of an exhale, and Leia nods her head.

 

‘Yes. By half.’

 

‘But... but that means half of the projects I’ve approved will have to be cancelled. People are already making plans. Some people are already halfway around the world. There’s equipment to be paid for and debts we’ve promised to pay and -’

 

But Leia gives an exasperated raise of her eyebrows, and shakes her head. ‘Look, Miss Johnson, this is your issue. Not mine. I’m cutting your budget. Deal with it please. And also, get out. I’ve got shit to do.’

 

Rey hears the order in Leia’s voice, but continues to stand there, as though glued to the floor. She looks at Leia with true dislike.

 

‘You really don’t care, do you? About anything beyond oil, profits, and your precious son, that is.’

 

Leia’s eyes snap up, and she regards Rey thoughtfully. Her eyes are cold and calculating, and Rey shivers as she looks her up and down, taking her in and appraising her openly.

 

‘Miss Johnson, you know fuck all about me, or the things I do. Now, get out.’

 

‘Is this about me and Ben?’

 

Immediately, Rey could kick herself for having spoken. But her words, so unexpectedly spoken, linger in the air like a bad smell and Leia’s face turns sour at the scent of them.

 

‘What do you mean, you and Ben?’ Leia asks, her voice like ice.

 

‘Nothing,’ Rey immediately retreats. ‘It was only that -’

 

‘There is no you and Ben,’ Leia says firmly. ‘There has never been a you and Ben, and there will never be a you and Ben, do you understand me, Miss Johnson?’

 

Rey chews on her lip, wondering how much Leia knows.

 

Everything, she suspects.

 

‘Armitage might have said that -’ Rey begins, but Leia stops her with a sudden laugh.

 

‘Armitage Hux? Your assistant?’

 

‘And your spy,’ Rey challenges.

 

Leia smiles at that. ‘Armitage Hux is playing games all of his own, Miss Johnson. You know he’s First Order, don’t you? Working for that bastard Snoke, of course. Sent in here to spy on me, and Resistance. Well, if they think they can outwit Leia Organa, they’ve got another fucking thing coming, don’t they? I put Hux in your office, so close to Ben and the scandal they’re trying to sniff out, but actually, in the most harmless place he could be. Close enough to think they’re in a position of influence... but so far away from the actual real workings of Resistance that they’re only wasting their own time. Hux is running back to Snoke every so often, telling him all about Ben and his little fling with you - because it is a fling, no doubt about it, Miss Johnson - leaving me happily alone, getting on with the real work.’

 

Rey froze, wringing her hands together.

 

‘You know everything? About Ben and me?’

 

Leia smiles again. The sweet smile of a viper before it struck. ‘Once again, there is no Ben and you, Miss Johnson. But if you mean the fact that my son’s been fucking you every night for the past few weeks, than yes, I know it all.’

 

Rey sucks in a breath, all and any words receding from her brain in front of such unspeakable horror.

 

‘Ah, that’s quietened you down, hasn’t it, Miss Johnson? You see, I’m not an idiot, my dear. My son has been very happy recently. Almost... settled. Credit where credit is due, you must be a firebrand in the sack to have made Ben Solo happy. I’m his mother, but even I know what a miserable pain in the ass he can be at times. Too much of my father, and even my brother, inside of him at times. Well, he’ll be just as happy with Kaydel when they marry in October and -’

 

At that, Rey sits, falling into her chair with a shocked expression, like she’d been struck soundly across the face, all and any happiness fleeing her body, leaving an empty shell behind. 

 

Leia gives another malicious grin. ‘Oh... oh, he hadn’t told you, had he? October 12th. A big, New York wedding. Four hundred of our nearest and dearest friends, but mostly business associates, in attendance. It’s going to be beautiful.’

 

‘He... he would have said... something to me,’ Rey stammers, but Leia shakes her head.

 

‘No, he wouldn’t. He likes you, I really think he does, and let that be a comfort to you. But Ben knows what’s good for him, and what’s good for this company, and neither of those things include you, long-term. But Kaydel? Kaydel’s old oil money, an old family friend, and Ben’s first love. When they marry it will solidify the partnership between Resistance Futures and Outer Rim Industries. It will be good for everyone, including the four hundred thousand people I employ across the world, Miss Johnson. Because you’re right, I don’t give a shit about the environment. But I do give a shit about people. You and Ben... you’re so optimistic. So enthusiastic about change for the better, about making the world a cleaner place,’ Leia rolls her eyes. ‘But me? I know that if I move Resistance Futures towards a cleaner and greener but more expensive business plan, that my stock will fall, the company will go bust, and that another, less reputable company -  like First Order - will be there to suck up the pieces. While I’m here at Resistance, I can guarantee the income, safe working practices and healthy retirement of nearly half a million people worldwide. If I go? They’re all at the mercy of the competition, who won’t think twice about throwing them all to the wolves if there was profit to be made from it.’

 

Rey stares at Leia, tears filling her eyes. Abruptly, Leia’s face softens.

 

‘You’re one of that half a million, Miss Johnson. And let me tell you something, you’re good at what you do. Oh, not at the business side of things, no, of course not, I don’t know my son ever hired you... except, of course, that I do,’ Leia gives another, less delicate roll of her eyes. 

 

‘He hired me because I’m a good marine biologist -’ Rey starts to argue, but Leia gives another sympathetic cluck, shaking her head.

 

‘No. He hired you because he heard you were dating Poe Dameron, and wanted to end it. He hired you because he wanted to sleep with you, and nothing more, Miss Johnson.’

 

Rey’s face went white, and she brushed a tear from her cheek. The same cheek Ben had brushed tears from so recently. Same cheek, different tears. 

 

Same cause, Rey thinks wryly. 

 

‘Yes,’ she agrees, seeing truth there in Leia’s words.

 

Leia regards her thoughtfully again. ‘You’re terrible at leading a department, Miss Johnson. But you’re a damned fine marine biologist. I should know too, as my brother is one. Luke,’ Leia nods. ‘He studies a rare species on some island somewhere. Fish nuns or something. I don’t know, his letters are always... vague.’

 

‘Luke?’ Rey speaks through a throat swollen with unspent tears. ‘You mean Luke Skywalker? Oh. I’ve read his work. I didn’t know he was your brother. He’s good.’

 

‘So are you,’ Leia says again, emphatically this time. ‘So good, in fact, that I think you should go back to it. Any study you want to do. Anywhere in the world. I’ll make sure the budget is there for it. And preserved for you, too. For as long as you’re working at Resistance.’

 

‘That sounds like a bribe,’ Rey says lightly, though her heart is heavy.

 

Leia nods. ‘With all due respect, it’s common sense, Miss Johnson. You’ve had your fun. You’ve got a nice stint in an office to put on your resume. But now it’s time to be practical. It’s time to accept the facts for what they are. It’s time, my dear, to move on.’

 

‘Right,’ Rey breathes, although she doesn’t, not really, because it hurts to breathe, and how can she go on, now, knowing what she does?

 

‘A week from now, I won’t be expecting to see you in this office, Miss Johnson. A week from now, I’ll be expecting to sign a nice big contract for you to work on any marine project of your choice. Do you understand? Am I making myself clear?’

 

But Rey still holds onto a small, useless scrap of hope. She’s always held onto hope. Hope has seen her through many a cold and lonely year, after all.

 

‘Is he... is he really going to marry... marry Kaydel?’ She asks in a small, hurt voice.

 

Leia, with a sigh, slides a card over the table.

 

It’s peach in colour, scented with bergamot, lined with linen.

 

A wedding invitation.

 

‘Four hundred people received these yesterday,’ Leia explains, not unkindly, before adding, with a little more bite, ‘would you like one too?’

 

Rey shakes her head. She can’t imagine anything worse.

 

‘A week,’ Leia says firmly. ‘And I won’t be seeing you again.’

 

Rey stands, knowing that she has been dismissed. 

 

In more ways than one.

 

‘Thank you,’ she says, her damned British sense of politeness coming back to haunt her, even now, when there is another two-word phrase, more apt, that springs to mind. 

 

But Leia seems pleased by Rey’s calm demeanour.

 

‘Miss Johnson, I really do wish you the best of luck.’

 

And Rey tries to smile, though as soon as the door is closed behind her, and she’s safely back in her office, her smile fades, replaced, once again, by tears.

 

***

 

Rey doesn’t go to meet Ben at the restaurant.

 

But neither does she go home.

 

She stays in her office, staring at two sheets of paper.

 

Leia said so herself. Her budget is being cut by half. Which means decisions have to be made, now, before she’s ousted, and someone with less knowledge - with less care for the environment - is recruited in her place.

 

So, which does she cut? Poe Dameron’s upcoming sea slug study, or Rose Tico’s porg research? 

 

She spends two hours staring at both proposals, not really taking them in, but knowing that it’s still damn well better than thinking about Ben, and his upcoming marriage to Kaydel.

 

Another hour later, and she sends a decline letter, painfully and politely worded, to Poe Dameron. He’s going to have words with her later - he still has her mobile number, after all - but she can’t bring herself to fund his study.

 

His proposal, to work out why the  _ siphopteron  _ genus of sea slug stabs it's partner in the head during sex -  _ perhaps as a way of mind control -  _ makes her shudder. The thought of anyone, particularly Leia or her son, learning how to control anyone through sex feels like dangerous territory.

 

But then, given her history with Ben, maybe it’s knowledge they already have.

 

She’s typing the letter out, making excuse after excuse for her own pathetic ineptitude, when she feels a hand snake around her waist, making her jump.

 

‘Ben!’ She exclaims, brushing his hand away.

 

‘You didn’t meet me at the restaurant,’ he murmurs, his voice low in her ear.

 

‘No,’ she says shortly, not looking at him.

 

‘You weren’t at your place either,’ he carries on, seemingly unaware of the cold reception she is giving him.

 

‘Funny that,’ Rey replies icily. 

 

At that, he stops. ‘Starfish... what’s going on?’ 

 

‘I’m leaving,’ she says simply.

 

Ben stares at her. ‘Leaving?’

 

‘Yes. Leaving. I’m flying back to London tomorrow.’

 

‘London,’ he says slowly. ‘But you can’t go to London, Starfish. You work here.’

 

‘I  _ did  _ work here,’ she corrects him. ‘As of tomorrow, I don’t.’

 

He stares at her. ‘You quit?’

 

She almost laughs at him. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I quit.’

 

His brow furrows, and he gives her a quizzical look.

 

‘What the fuck does that mean, Starfish?’

 

‘It means,’ she says slowly, enunciating every word, ‘that I’m fucking done here, Ben. I’m done here. And I’m done with you too.’

 

His hands withdraw from her waist as though she burns him. ‘You’re done with me too,’ he repeats back to her, slowly.

 

‘Yes.’

 

He stares at her. ‘Why?’

 

‘Why what?’

 

‘Why are you done here? Why are you doing this to me? I asked you... no, I  _ begged  _ you not to hurt me and - ’

 

‘Did you hire me to stop me from seeing Poe Dameron?’

 

Rey’s words cut into the tense atmosphere, and she sees Ben stiffen. 

 

‘Who told you -?’ he begins, but she shakes her head, laughing bitterly.

 

‘I’m so stupid,’ she says, biting her lip and trying not to cry. ‘I honestly thought I was here on my own merits. I’m so, so stupid.’

 

‘You are here on your own merits,’ Ben tries to reassure her, but Rey shakes her head at him sadly.

 

‘No. No, don’t lie to me. I’m here because you wanted to fuck me. Because you knew Poe and I had tried seeing each other and.... And you didn’t like that... and so... so you  _ invented  _ a role for me here. I’m such an idiot,’ she says again. ‘But then, you are too. Poe and I... we tried but it didn’t work... and... and if you’d only known that... well, I wouldn’t be here and then...’

 

Ben grabs her hand, bringing it to his lips. ‘Starfish,’ he says fervently. ‘Starfish, look, I needed you here. I don’t know how to explain it. I really don’t. But I needed you here and... look, you are here on your own merits. My mother would never have hired anyone who didn’t impress her during an interview and...’

 

‘Please,’ Rey suddenly pleads. ‘Please don’t talk to me about your mother. Please. Look, I need to go. I need to pack and tidy this office up and...’

 

But Ben has tight a hold of her hand, and refuses to let loose of it. 

 

‘No, Starfish, don’t go,’ he begs. ‘Please don’t go. Please. Just stay. Just stay. I’ll do anything if you’ll just stay.’

 

Rey stares at him, shaking his hand away, almost violently. ‘What do you mean, anything?’

 

Ben swallows hard. He looks at her earnestly. ‘I’ll double your salary,’ he says, his voice still low. ‘No. No, I’ll triple it. You just need to stay here. Stay with me. Please, Starfish, stay with me.  _ Please. _ ’

 

He extends a hand towards her, reaching for her, offering her everything with one outstretched palm.

 

But Rey only stares at it, and at him, with wide, disbelieving eyes.

 

‘You want to pay for me to... you see me like that, really? Like  _ that _ ?’

 

He blinks at her, and she notices, for the first time, the tears that are gathering in his eyes.

 

‘You’d pay for me to stay, to stay and keep fucking you, even while you’re planning on marrying Kaydel?’

 

He blanches as though she’s struck him, his face paling, his body shaking. But behind the shock, Rey also sees the guilt that is hiding beneath his tears.

 

The guilt, and the shame.

 

‘Starfish -’

 

‘Don’t call me that.’

 

He blinks, and the tears in his eyes start to fall.   

 

‘Rey... don’t go... please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Not like this.’

 

‘Then how?’ she asks, her own voice strangled by a sob. ‘How should I leave you, Ben? Because it was always going to come to this. You know that as well as I do.’

 

He gazes at her with wet, uncertain eyes, and Rey, suddenly tired, suddenly exhausted, slumps into her chair.

 

‘This is goodbye, Ben.’

 

His face flares with panic. ‘No. No, not goodbye, don’t say that... don’t ever say that. Look, just stay, and we can sort this all out, we can -’

 

But Rey is too tired to fight anymore. Whatever fire that burned inside her has been extinguished, and all she wants to do now is to sleep.

 

Sleep, and forget.

 

But there is one more thing. One more thing to clarify, before she can walk away, not without regrets, but at least without questions.

 

‘What did you owe me?’ she asks, her voice lilting with curiosity.

 

Ben, gazing at her sadly, raises an eyebrow.

 

‘What?’

 

‘After our... after that first night... you said you owed me something. I’ve been trying to work out ever since what it was.’

 

Ben gives her a melancholy smile. ‘A kiss,’ he admits. He reaches down, takes her hand. ‘I should’ve kissed you the first day I saw you. I should’ve kissed you that first night. I should’ve kissed you in San Antonio. I should’ve kissed you every day I ever knew you, Starfish.’

 

Rey closes her eyes.

 

‘Kiss me now then. Kiss me goodbye.’

 

‘Not goodbye... Starfish, please just stay and talk to me, at least,’ Ben begs, one more time.

 

But Rey hurts. Now, she only wants to go home.

 

‘No,’ she says. ‘Kiss me goodbye. Please.’

 

She sits up, reaching out for him, folding his shivering arms around her waist. He’s still shaking his head, refusing to even look at her, as she cups his face in her hands, trying to memorise the feel of his skin beneath hers. He’s still shaking his head as she leans up, brushing her lips against his, feeling his resolve weaken as she lightly kisses him. 

 

He kisses her back, his lips salty with tears, his hands shaking as he cups her face in return. 

 

‘I love you,’ he whispers, and she sobs as she pulls away.

 

‘Ben,’ she wipes her eyes. ‘Our dance is finished.’    

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be back soon with act three (the final act) of this story.x


	8. Crown-of-Thorns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: scenes of Starfish destruction follow. So if you’re adverse to that kind of thing, do not read.

_ Three years later _

 

When Rey goes into work that Tuesday, there is a surprise waiting for her. It's Maz Kanata, sitting in Rey’s shoebox of an office with a big grin on her face, Finn and Rose behind her, clutching a birthday cake complete with twenty-nine flaming candles.

 

‘Happy birthday, darling,’ Maz cries, putting the cake down and throwing her arms around Rey. Rey laughs, even more so when both Finn and Rose throw themselves into the mix, squashing the breath out of her in the best possible way. When they let her go, with another kiss and a squeeze, Rey is pink and a little breathless, but very, very happy.

 

She likes the Takodana Island research facility. She likes it a lot. Of course, it’s hot and humid, and the air conditioning in her small, basic living quarters is always on the fritz, and she always gets soaked in the evening thunderstorms, and the internet is patchy at best... but still, it’s home.

 

The best home she’s ever had, anyway.

 

She’s been there three years, having arrived around six months after she told Leia Organa to go fuck herself, flinging a contract for a five-year study on an Alaskan rig back in her unmoving face, walking out into the New York morning with a lightness in her step.

 

No more oil. No more rigs. No more putting profit before her passion. 

 

Just research on a sunny, tropical island, leading a small team of earnest, industrious volunteers. 

 

‘Mostly students, and some older folk, looking to give a little in their life,’ Maz had told her, when she’d offered her the job. ‘They’ll stay maybe six months at the most, before they’ll go and another crew arrives. You’ll have your ground team, of course, but it can be a lonely existence. Very different from New York,’ Maz warned.

 

‘Good,’ Rey replied easily. ‘I really hated New York. And when you’re a girl like me, without family, friends or...’ she’d paused, swallowing hard. ‘Or anyone else, well, you kind of get used to being alone.’

 

But she wasn’t lonely, not really. Or maybe she was, and solitude suited her. It didn’t matter, in the end. There was no need to put words to all the feelings she couldn’t articulate. All Rey knew, all she needed to know, was that she was happier here at Takodana than she could ever remember being anywhere else. 

 

Here, the air was clean and the sky was mostly blue. Here, she could hear the ocean from her bedroom, the crashing of waves on the shore, the pull of the sea away from the land. Here, there were fish to study and reefs to watch and marine life, presented at it's finest.

 

Here, she felt like she could breathe, when just a few years ago, it felt like she might never be able to breathe again.

 

She poached Rose Tico from Resistance fairly early on - because again,  _ fuck you, Leia Organa -  _ and Finn joined them from First Order about a year after that. He’s good natured and hard working and as the facility’s only engineer, keeps her equipment from frying in the sun or cutting out in the rain, for which she could kiss him at times.

 

She doesn’t though - kiss him, that is - because for one thing, she doesn’t look upon him as anything other than a friend, and for another, Rose would probably murder her for it. Rose and Finn have been going strong for eighteen months now, and although at times it gets wearying, living with another couple, seeing and hearing the things Rey knows now she could never have, Rose and Finn do their best to keep her involved, to never make her feel like the third wheel.

 

She’s been the third wheel enough in her lifetime already.

 

‘Blow out your candles,’ Maz is saying now, cuddling Rey again, and Rey laughs once more, cuddling her back.

 

‘You came all the way from the mainland to bring me a birthday cake?’ Rey asks happily.

 

Maz grins. ‘That, and I also just wanted to see my favourite research leader,’ she leans closer, lowering her voice. ‘There’s also a nice bottle of champagne waiting in your cabin for you, but don’t tell anyone... I know that Rose here enjoys a tipple.’ She grins. ‘Or four.’

 

‘Hey,’ Rose sits up, affronted, but Maz only chuckles.

 

‘Go on, go on,’ she urges Rey. ‘Blow out the candles. In this heat they might actually melt, and no one likes wax in their fondant.’

 

‘Yeah, peanut,’ Finn grins. ‘Blow out your candles. Make a wish.’

 

‘But there’s nothing I need,’ Rey replies easily.

 

‘So?’ Finn shrugs. ‘Wish for something you want then.’

 

But Rey only freezes, because the only thing she  _ wants,  _ the only thing she knows she could ever want now, is forever denied to her.

 

She swallows. He’ll have been married three years next month.

 

But as always, whenever her mind drifts to  _ him _ , she shuts the thought down, before it can take real shape or form.

 

Before it can hurt her.

 

Finn, Rose and Maz are looking at her expectantly, so she closes her eyes, purses her lips and blows.

 

When she opens her eyes again, the candles are out, and Rose gives a little cheer, throwing an arm around Rey’s waist.

 

‘Maybe your wish will come true,’ she says with a sigh, the sigh of a happy, content woman.

 

But Rey only shrugs.

 

‘No,’ she tells her bluntly. ‘Life doesn’t work that way.’

 

Rose’s brow furrows, and she opens her mouth to speak, but Rey suddenly grins, and kisses her cheek.

 

‘Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about me, I’m being silly. Just a little birthday blues, I guess. Come on, let’s cut this cake before it turns bad in the heat. And then,’ she adds with a firm nod of her head. ‘We have work to do.’

 

Maz tuts at her. ‘It’s your birthday. Take the morning off. Go for a walk -’

 

‘In this heat?’ Rey interrupts, with a roll of her eyes.

 

‘Well, a swim then,’ Maz returns.

 

‘No, there’s too much to do,’ Rey explains, gesturing to her desk, stacked with reports and data and volunteer applications.

 

Maz’s eyes narrow. ‘I mean it, Rey. When was your last day off?’

 

Rey shrugs, hoping to let the subject die, when Finn speaks up, his mouth full of cake.

 

‘Never,’ he splutters, cake crumbs flying everywhere. ‘Rey’s always working.’

 

‘Why?’ Maz rounds on her. ‘You have enough volunteers this season, no? And Finn and Rose are more than capable of covering for you on your day off.’

 

‘There’s just so much paperwork,’ Rey says tightly. ‘And it’s my responsibility to make sure it’s recorded and filed correctly.’

 

‘Mmm,’ Maz’s mouth sets into a frown. ‘I’m not sure I like this.’

 

‘I like my work,’ Rey argues. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t working -’

 

She pauses, the treacherous thought of  _ him  _ once again crossing her mind. 

 

With a deep breath, she gives a wide, mostly genuine smile. ‘I like working,’ she says again, though her voice doesn’t carry quite the conviction she would like.

 

Maz scoops up a forkful of cake. Without preamble, she shoves it into Rey’s mouth.

 

‘You might like living too, if you ever try it,’ she finishes, while Rey half-chokes on her own birthday cake.

 

‘Maz -!’

 

‘Maybe you need some assistance around this office,’ Maz looks around, at the piles of paperwork, at the mess and files languishing for attention.

 

‘We can’t afford more staff,’ Rey shrugs, licking sugar from her lips. ‘I know our budget.’

 

‘Hmm,’ Maz muses again. ‘You worry about you and your team. Leave the budget to me. Maybe we could do with another full time member of staff here... let me run over some figures, see what I can do.’

 

‘Maz...’

 

But Maz shakes her head. ‘I said leave it with me, Rey. Now,’ she stood abruptly, brushing her hands on her shirt. ‘It’s your birthday. I don’t want to see you in this office, or near any of the research teams today. You hear?’

 

‘Maz...’ Rey protests again, but Maz holds up a hand, silencing her. ‘You two,’ she turns to Finn and Rose, ‘Keep her out, you hear me? She’s going to enjoy her birthday, even if we have to force her to.’

 

Rey turns to Finn, giving him a look, but he only shrugs as he helps himself to another slice of cake. ‘Sorry peanut,’ he says, ‘but she’s the boss.’

 

Rose loops her arm through Rey’s, ‘Come on, Rey,’ she says, pulling her from the office and walking her out into the bright morning sunshine. Rey blinks in the sudden light, but Rose’s face is steady. 

 

‘Go and take a swim,’ Rose suggests earnestly. ‘Look, there are no teams working in the Cove today. I’ll keep them away. Have the place to yourself for a few hours, enjoy the water, you know?’

 

Rey pauses, chewing on her lip with uncertainty. ‘I’m not good... being left with my own thoughts for too long,’ she admits. ‘I’d rather just work.’

 

Rose gives her a sisterly smile. ‘Yeah, we kinda noticed. But Maz is right, Rey. You need to take a break. You’ll burn out if you don’t.’

 

Still, Rey stands, reluctant to leave the safety of her office and workload. She needs this space, needs this distraction, so that she doesn’t think of other, more painful thoughts.

 

Thoughts of him.

 

‘ _ Rey, _ ’ Rose’s words are suddenly imploring. ‘It’s your birthday. Take a break, just for today.’

 

‘Rose -’

 

But Rose shakes her head, for once unmoving, her normally jovial nature abruptly buried under a serious, worried expression. ‘I’ve never asked what it is that you’re trying to forget, Rey. But the answer doesn’t lie under a mountain of paperwork or in a computer bursting with marine data.’

 

‘I’m not trying to forget anything,’ Rey replies instantly, and Rose tilts her head, giving a gentle sigh.

 

‘If that were true, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Take a break today, honey. If not from work, than at least from trying to forget. Go for a swim, remember him, cry into the water... and then come back in tomorrow, feeling a hell of a lot better, okay?’

 

Rey stares at her. ‘How do you know this is about a... a  _ him? _ ’

 

Rose shrugs. ‘Because it always is. Go on. Take the day,’ she leans forward, kissing Rey on the cheek. ‘I really do want you to have a happy birthday. But maybe letting it hurt a bit is just something you need to do.’

 

And Rey nods. 

 

Because yes, maybe it is.

 

She’s spent three years trying to forget, but she hasn’t yet tried to let go.

 

Maybe today, her birthday, is that time.

 

***

 

The cove is a place of crystal clear water teaming with marine life; a sandstone mouth of rock lined with soft and sandy beach, quiet, peaceful and still, the water a cool blanket under sun-warmed skin.

 

Rey takes one of the boats out into the middle of the water, throwing on her bikini, grabbing some snorkel equipment and hauling herself over the side. She swims for a time, gazing at the reef below, at the fish that skirt her sides, before returning to the boat, drying herself off in the sun.

 

She’s been out for about four hours when she takes a deep breath, reaching into her bag and pulling from it a small wooden chest. Heart pounding, mouth dry, she opens the chest gingerly, staring into it's dark depths as though it might hold a snake that could bite her.

 

But it's contents are an entirely different kind of poison.

 

A scrap of newspaper, folded over. A silk tie, crumpled and worn. A printed menu, from a pizzeria in San Antonio, a wine stain over one corner.

 

Rey stares at these items, her hands shaking, her face still. 

 

She touches the menu and tries to remember the smell of garlic in the air, hanging over a humid Texas night. She recalls fingers wiping condensation from a glass, the same fingers that later ran down the length of her body. She brings the menu to her nose, hating herself, searching for the scent of the wine she drank. The wine she could later taste on his lips.

 

It smells of wood now, nothing more. A little damp perhaps, musty and unpleasant.

 

Just like the lingering taste of their relationship, Rey thinks bitterly.

 

She doesn’t know why she expected anything else.

 

And so she puts it back in the chest, her hand waving briefly over the faded red and white check pattern of the border. 

 

She takes a deep breath. She needs to let it go.

 

The tie is still soft in her hands, the colour still a vibrant blue. He’d worn it once to her place in New York, tied her up with it, and then forgot about it in his rush to leave. She’d meant to give it back to him, meant to leave it in his office, perhaps in an awkward place that Kaydel might see, but never found the time, place, or the stark cruelty in her heart to do so.

 

Besides, he’d taken what he wanted from her, so in a way, she considered the tie almost a casualty of their affair. A small token, so easily forgotten by him, but treasured afterwards by her.

 

She nearly breaks then, holding that tie. Her body shakes with the effort of restraint, and all because of a stupidly expensive, stupidly abandoned, and stupidly cherished tie.

 

She thrusts it back into the chest, squeezing her eyes shut, composing herself, while the sun burns around her, the boat shifting beneath her on a gentle wave.

 

And when she opens her eyes again, taking a deep breath, she pauses.

 

Because she needs to let it go.

 

She takes five minutes before she unfolds the newspaper, staring at the black and white picture before her, her only picture of  _ him,  _ her breath in her throat and tears stinging her eyes.

 

It was taken only a month after she left. A month after that final argument, after those heated words, after Ben’s ‘I love you,’ was thrown so desperately into the air.

 

She stares at the image, and feels her heart blacken with anger and despair. 

 

Because he looks good in this photo, one that was clearly so artfully posed for. He looks classy and expensive and organised, a small smile on his lips, his eyes blank but good-natured.

 

An arm is draped around Kaydel, who also looks classy and expensive and organised, and Rey reads, once again, the announcement of their engagement, and all the details of their upcoming wedding. A wedding which was, no doubt, classy and expensive and organised.

 

She stares at him in this picture, and wonders how he went from ‘I love you,’ in her flat, to this... this self-assured, well-attired man, with his self-assured, well-attired fiancèe.

 

How he went from her to  _ this,  _ so many times, over and over and over again. How he could so casually and cruelly move between two women, without any regard for their feelings. 

 

_ Their feelings _ . Rey pauses, looking, perhaps for the first time, at Kaydel in this picture. 

 

She doesn’t hate her. She hardly even knows her, after all. What happened, between her and Ben, wasn’t any reflection on Kaydel, Rey’s almost sure of it. 

 

Rey swallows. After three years of reflection, Rey’s come to the conclusion that she, for Ben, was merely an addiction. An itch he scratched simply because he could, because Rey made it so terribly easy for him. She was nothing to him, the woman on the side he only placated with loving words and gestures when she threatened to leave him. 

 

Rey stares at him, soaking in, for the last time, this image she has held onto, despite all her misgivings. She’s held onto this photo- this grainy, pixelated image, the only one she ever had of him, even with his fiancee firmly by his side- and not quite cherished it, but not quite been able to let go of it either.

 

And she needs to let it go. She needs to let  _ him _ go.

 

Almost without thinking, she runs a finger along the image of his face. It’s cool and paper-fine, not at all like the warm, comforting texture of his skin. She gazes hard into the unresponsive orbs of his eyes, almost waiting for a smile she knows will never come, for that look of hot longing he wore only for her, concealed normally under an apathetic mask.

 

As she stares, his image suddenly dampens and then blurs, and she glances up at the cloudless blue sky, looking for rain.

 

But it's not rain. Shocked, she touches a finger to her cheek, and feels the wet and salty tracks of her tears. She’s crying. 

 

Crying. Over  _ him. _

 

With a muffled cry, she crumples the newspaper in her hand, shoving it hard into the chest and slamming it closed. She stands, the chest clutched in her arms, and jumps from the boat. The water is cool around her as she dives to the bottom of the cove, swimming all the way to the colourful reef beneath her, selecting a spot most suited for her purpose. And there, between two natural rocks, she places the chest, jamming it solidly so that it cannot rise to the surface and hurt her ever again. Eventually, the coral will attach to the chest and adsorb it into the ecosystem of the reef, and then one day, the contents will be no more. 

 

No more Italian menu, splattered with wine. No more silk tie, his scent embedded into the fabric. No more printed photograph of the man she loved so very, very much. No more images of the woman he married. 

 

No more her. No more them. 

 

No more  _ him. _

 

And when Rey reaches the surface once more, clinging to the edge of the boat, she cries hot tears of regret and sorrow. They stream down her face, falling into the water and mingling with the salt-water of the ocean, becoming nothing more than sea-water, as though they’d never even existed at all.

 

Just like her and Ben, Rey realises.

 

She lets it all out, crying by the side of the boat until her cheeks ache and her eyes are dry. She cries until her fingers prune in the water and her legs ache with the cold. She cries until her tears are spent, until she’s exhausted, resting her head against the boat, her body and soul numb.

 

She lets him go, and then, when the sun starts to dip in the sky, she climbs back into the boat, and heads back to base.

 

***

 

When she returns that night one of the volunteers finds her at dinner. Rey stares at him, trying to remember his name. Brody, is it? Bradley, maybe? She doesn’t care. She only wants to eat, and then sleep. And so she nods absently as he talks, not really taking anything in, hardly hearing a word he says, until -

 

‘... Starfish, and then...’

 

‘What?’ Rey interrupts him, suddenly alert. ‘What did you say?’

 

‘Starfish?’ he raises an eyebrow at her. ‘I was just asking what we should do with them?’

 

‘Do with what?’ She asks, and he blinks at her, clearly annoyed at having to repeat himself.

 

‘The Crown of Thorns Starfish we found earlier today. Pulled six of them from the reef. Do you want us to put them back? Or should we destroy them?’

 

Rey stares at him. It’s left to Rose, sitting next to her, to speak up.

 

‘They’re destructive, but not voracious here,’ Rose says. ‘They occur naturally, and this reef isn’t at risk from them -’

 

‘Not yet,’ Rey interjects darkly.

 

Rose looks at her sideways. ‘It’s your call, Rey. But I can’t see the harm in putting them back. Six is hardly an infestation, and -’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘It always starts small, an infestation. It starts small, but it always grows. Bigger and bigger and bigger until you don’t even know how to begin to tackle the problem.’

 

Rose brushes a hand over Rey’s arms. ‘Rey, are you okay -?’

 

But Rey stands, giving Brody, Brad, whoever the fuck he is, a firm look. ‘Destroy them all,’ she orders. ‘We’re licensed to kill them here. There’s bile syringes in the lab. I want them gone.’

 

Rose bites her lip. ‘They’re just a few starfish, Rey... they -’

 

But Rey shakes her head, the word ‘Starfish’ like ammunition in her soul.

 

‘Kill them all,’ she says again. ‘And if you find anymore, here on the reef, I want them destroyed too.’

 

She walks away, brushing Rose’s arm away, ignoring the look Finn gives her on the way past.

 

By night, Brad returns. it’s done. The Starfish are dead.

 

And so, to Rey, is Ben.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. The chapter count went up. I just can’t finish act three in one chapter. I have an idea, and I’m going to follow it through and see if I can wrap this up successfully.


	9. Shark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an incredibly indulgent chapter for me and I loved writing every word.

It’s a brutally hot day, and Rey stands on the deck of the wharf, ready to welcome a new batch of volunteers onto the island. Her sunhat, bought from the mainland a few supply runs ago, is about four sizes too large for her, and she perpetually pushes it back out of her eyes, so she can see the incoming boat. 

 

She tries unsuccessfully to stamp down a flicker of irritation at being the one to stand here, in the sun, a welcoming smile she doesn’t necessarily feel plastered over her face. It’s Finn’s turn this time, after all, not hers. But Rose is sick -  _ again _ \- and Finn refuses to leave her side. So Rey, without too much grace, made the long walk over to the wharf, making polite chit chat with the half dozen or so volunteers who were leaving the island, trying not to think too much about Rose’s sickness, and what it might mean for Rose, for Finn, and by default, for her. 

 

The first few times were easy to ignore. They try not to impact on the local ecosystem here, and so the food they eat is mostly processed, cooked from tins or from the deep chest freezers in the kitchen of the facility. Occasionally, something will disagree with one of them, and they’ll feel the effects for a day or two before getting on with their work. So it was easy, on those first few occasions, to ignore Rose’s pale skin, or the way she would clutch at her stomach before rushing to the bathroom. 

 

But when two weeks passed, and then three, and then four, with every morning the same, Rose, pale and wan, sick and damp with perspiration, before a sudden recovery in the afternoon when she ate everything in sight... well, that was harder to ignore. 

 

Up on the deck, Rey blinks in the sun nervously. There’s no doctor on the island - other than scientific ones, that is - and decent medical care is a four hour boat ride away. She has, of course, a good set of medical equipment at the base... but it's the kind of equipment necessary for basic first aid; for heat stroke and stomach cramps and burns and abrasions. 

 

Not for pregnancy. Nothing in her first aid kit is capable of safely monitoring the growth of another human being.

 

Which means Rose will have to leave. And if Rose leaves, Finn will go with her.

 

And Rey will be left alone.

 

Again.

 

‘There’s the boat!’ the cheers of the leaving volunteers wake Rey from her thoughts, and she smiles with the crowd, pushing her sun hat up and out of her eyes once more. The boat chugs slowly up to the deck, and the others chatter around her, hoisting their bags over their shoulders, readjusting their cameras, their backpacks, and their priorities in life with the mooring of the boat that will take them far from this island, and far from this life.

 

There are a few tears, of course. A few volunteers enthusiastically embrace Rey, crying onto her shoulder, telling her through sobs how much they’ll miss the island, miss the animals, miss their work. But most are happy to be going, missing their creature comforts in life. Their morning lattes, their ultra-fast internet connections, their beds and baths and their access to non-tinned foods. 

 

Rey envies them and is dismissive of them all at once. She can’t imagine what it must be like to want to leave this island, but then, she can’t imagine what it must be like to have a life to return to either. Her life  _ is  _ this island now. Her life is her work. 

 

And she’s not unhappy with that choice. 

 

Not often, anyway.

 

The boat arrives, mooring with a shudder, and there is an exchange of sorts. The previous volunteers, smiling and tanned, switch places with the new recruits, who still have an academic pallor, their backpacks pristine, their boots shiny. Rey bids goodbye to the old crew, exchanging a quick word with the boat’s captain and relinquishing from him a bag of supplies, before turning to the new volunteers, smiling at them and running through an introductory speech, the usual words of thanks, praise, and fair warning of what life on this island can be like.

 

‘It’s hard, but immensely rewarding work,’ she says, giving them a friendly once over. ‘The island is tropical, and as such, we get heat and sun but also torrential rain, lightning storms and even, on occasion, cyclones. I’m not trying to frighten any of you, this is a good facility and a safe one, and we have the proper procedures in place in case of...’

 

She trails away, her attention suddenly caught by a man emerging from the boat. 

 

Rey blinks once, and then again.

 

She pushes the sunhat out of her eyes.

 

She pales, and then bites on her lip.

 

The man turns towards her, and drops his designer backpack onto the deck with a shocked thump.

 

‘Oh my God,’ he breathes. ‘It’s you.’

 

***

 

Rey stares at Armitage Hux, who is dressed for the sunny weather in a white cotton shirt, with a silk kilt around his waist and a fez in the same tartan pattern perched merrily on his red hair.

 

She’s horrified, and not just at the potential sunburn his inappropriate headwear will surely bring.

 

‘What?’ she stammers. ‘Why are you... how is this... should you be wearing  _ that? _ ’

 

Armitage Hux, clearly just as stunned as she is, instantly bristles.

 

‘Yes,’ he replies sharply. ‘This is Moschino fall fashion.’ He gives her a dismissive glance, taking  in her worn khakis and sandals. ‘Not that  _ you _ would know anything about that, I’m sure.’

 

Rey stares at him openly, at the sickly yellow and green tartan, at the jaunty angle of his fez with it's shiny gold tassel.

 

‘Isn’t that cultural appropriation?’ She asks, her voice blunt, head turned to one side in appraisal.

 

Armitage’s mouth drops open in shock and disgust. His pale face turns red, and she sees his manicured hand clench.

 

‘How very dare you,’ he seethes. ‘I’ll have you know that this tartan just happens to be the tartan of clan Hux, who originated in Scotland many generations ago.’

 

‘No, that wasn’t what I... I didn’t mean the... I...’ Rey stammers again, still staring at his fez. ‘What are you doing here, Armitage?’

 

He shrugs. ‘I was offered a job here.’

 

Rey gapes at him. ‘A job? Where? Doing what? By who?’

 

Armitage sighs, sitting down on his luggage and spreading his kilt neatly around him, letting it pool around his waist like a delicate curtain. ‘Maz Kanata. I answered an online advert for a secretarial position. A year’s posting on a tropical island with an office and lab to organise. The pay is dreadful, but if I worked for the money I wouldn’t be doing what I do, now would I?’

 

Rey, still stunned into silence, shrugs mutely.

 

Armitage rolls his eyes at her. ‘So... what are you doing here?’

 

‘Who, me?’

 

Armitage rolls his eyes again. ‘Yes, you. How do you go from a six figure salary in New York to this?’

 

Rey stands taller. ‘I work for Maz Kanata too. I’m head of her Takodana marine research facility.’

 

For a moment, Armitage stares at her. ‘Well, fuck me,’ he eventually drawls. ‘Looks like I’m working for you again. So, you’re head of the facility?’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘You? Really?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey replies, affronted. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

 

Armitage sighs, adjusting his fez and pushing the tassel to one side. ‘Well, you weren’t exactly brilliant at your last job, were you now? How was it Leia described you?’ Armitage appears to think for a moment. ‘Ah, yes. Leggy and toothy with a fish shaped cavity for a brain.’ He laughs, but the laugh is a bitter one. Seeing Rey’s stern face, he shrugs. ‘Well, Leia Organa really was a grade A bitch at the end of the day.’

 

‘What happened?’ Rey asks sharply. ‘With you? Leia said you were working for First Order and Resistance at the same time.’

 

Armitage inhales tightly. ‘She told you that?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

Again, he seems to think. Finally, he stands, looking at Rey with real interest. ‘I worked for First Order, and I was happy there. They asked me to go to Resistance, work for Leia and send on any information I had... and you know what? I had no reason not to do as they said. But a few months after you jumped ship at Resistance, just after Ben and Kaydel’s wedding, Leia drags me screaming and shouting into her office and sacks me, then and there.’ Armitage’s face darkens. ‘And then, when I went back to First Order, they cut me off too.’

 

‘Oh,’ Rey exhales, not certain what to make of this, and trying her damndest not to wince at the mention of Ben’s name. But Armitage’s eyes are sharp, and he sees the flutter of pain that crosses her face.

 

‘You missed quite the party, Ben and Kaydel’s wedding,’ he muses, watching her carefully. ‘Quite the party.’

 

‘Did I now?’ Rey asks, deliberately keeping her voice bland.

 

Armitage shrugs again, abruptly looking away from her and out over the wharf. ‘So,’ he says, his tone almost jovial. ‘As fun as playing catch up is, when does the car come for us?’

 

Rey looks at him askance. ‘What car?’

 

‘The car that takes us from this shit pile of a wharf to your shit pile of a facility, of course.’

 

‘There isn’t a car,’ Rey explains, almost enjoying the look of shock that crosses his face.

 

‘No car?’ He looks confused.

 

‘No,’ Rey smiles. ‘We walk.’

 

‘Oh no,’ Armitage immediately shakes his head, lifting up his feet and showing Rey an immaculate pair of yellow boots. ‘No, these are for show only. I don’t  _ walk  _ places.’

 

Rey gives him a smile. ‘You do now. There’s no car... we walk everywhere on this island. There’s less impact on the environment that way.’

 

Armitage’s mouth drops open, hanging unattractively at an angle, showing Rey all of his beautifully white, beautifully even teeth. 

 

So beautifully out of place in this world.

 

‘Armitage, I have to ask. Why did you even apply for this position?’ Rey tries to be gentle. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t seem...  _ suited... _ to this role.’

 

But Armitage sits up taller. ‘I just want to organise things,’ he tells her. ‘I’ve only ever just wanted to organise things. My family has money, I don’t need to work. But I enjoy it. I enjoy the acts of clearing out, and clearing up, and filing correctly. I like my world to be orderly. That’s why the First Order appealed,’ he adds mournfully. ‘They were so efficient. So brutally efficient.’

 

‘You could have taken a job anywhere else and -’

 

‘Not in New York,’ Armitage interrupts. ‘Leia blacklisted me to every reputable company out there. Her message was understood, loud and clear: you hire Armitage Hux, you take on Leia Organa. And no one takes on Leia Organa these days.’

 

‘Yes, well,’ Rey swallows. She knows all about taking on Leia Organa. ‘Well, still, why here? When there were so many other places...’

 

‘Maz offered me the role,’ Armitage shrugs. ‘She was willing to go against Leia Organa. There aren’t many people who would do that. Besides,’ he gives Rey another sideways glance. ‘She said her manager was great with field work but a real slob in the office.’ He shakes his head. ‘I might’ve known it would be you. You weren’t exactly the best manager I’ve ever had.’

 

‘Hey -’

 

Armitage holds up a hand in defence. ‘Look, I’m only being honest with you. You’re an excellent biologist who just needs a little help with her management skills. So, enter Armitage,’ he grins. ‘I’m good at what I do. You know I am. And I can help you here. I’d like to help you here. One victim of Leia Organa to another, after all.’ He pauses, looking at her keenly. ‘Or was it only her son Ben who fucked you over?’

 

Rey bites down on her lip hard. She refuses to talk about Ben with anyone.

 

‘What’s done is done,’ she says clearly. ‘It’s in the past. All we can do now is move forwards. One foot at a time,’ she adds meaningfully, nodding at his boots.

 

Armitage looks down at his shoes with a regretful sigh. ‘They’re just so fabulous.’

 

‘Yes, they are,’ Rey shrugs. ‘Look, if you really want to help, I’ll let you. I trust Maz implicitly, and if she hired you... well, she must think you can manage the work. So, I guess I’ll just have to trust you too. There isn’t much on this island beyond the environment and the people. It’s important that we trust one another. So, come on then, I’ll take you to the base, show you your quarters, let you get settled in. I’ve got to settle in the other newbies as well, so you probably won’t see me much until Monday morning. But I can show you the office you’ll be working in, where the files are kept, and the basics of the computing system. Everything else will have to wait until later.’

 

‘Right,’ Armitage picks up his luggage, readjusting his tartan fez once more. ‘Later then. Well, I suppose now is the point where I say how lovely it is to see you again...’ he pauses and then squints at her, ever-so-slightly, clearly puzzled. ‘I want to say Kira?’

 

‘Kira?’ Rey stops dead. ‘Kira?’

 

‘I don’t know, you just look like a Kira,’ he gives her yet another once over. ‘You could be a Kira, you know. You can carry that kind of a name. It’s quirky,’ he smiles at her. It isn’t warm, and it isn’t genuine - not really - but it's still a smile. ‘Just like you.’

 

Rey stares at him. ‘Are you honestly saying you can’t remember my  _ name _ ?’

 

Armitage stares back. ‘Sorry, sorry, I know. I can organise but I’m just not one for small details... Wait, wait, stop - it’s Angela, right?’

 

‘Angela was the woman you worked for at Resistance before you were transferred to me,’ Rey says tightly.

 

‘Oh, of course,’ Armitage shrugs. ‘ Angela was the crazy cat lady. You were the marine biologist fucking Ben Solo. Now I remember.’

 

Rey blanches, recoiling away from Armitage at Ben’s name. ‘We should get to the base,’ she tells him tightly. 

 

‘Right you are...’ he pauses, peering at her again. ‘Karen?’

 

‘Forget it,’ Rey mutters, before glaring at him. ‘Except oh, you already have.’

 

‘Ooh,’ Armitage grins at her as he starts to pull his bag in the direction of the other volunteers. ‘You’ve got a bit of a bite to you, haven’t you? No wonder Solo liked you so much. Say, did you ever hear what happened to him and -’

 

But Rey shuts down that particular strand of conversation before it can hurt her.

 

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care,’ she snaps. ‘And if you want to keep your job here on this island, you won’t mention him or his mother again.’

 

Armitage stares at her. ‘Right,’ he nods. ‘Believe me, I’m no fan of them either.’

 

And with that, he adjusts his fez once more, before wheeling his bag into the foliage before her, disappearing into the tropical shrubbery like a green and gold tree.

 

***

 

Two months after Armitage’s arrival and Rey hates to admit it, but she’s not certain how she ever worked without him. 

 

They aren’t friends, not as such, but they both want to do their work well and as a result, the facility runs much more smoothly. With paperwork and admin taken off of her shoulders, Rey is free to concentrate on the things she loves best: her marine research and conservation efforts. She has more time for the volunteers too, which relieves the pressure on Rose and Finn.

 

Rose is showing now, a tiny round bump blooming on her stomach, though neither she nor Finn have confirmed her pregnancy, and Rey, too timid to question them about something so personal, won’t ask them. 

 

It’s only when Rose doesn’t show for yet another staff meeting, and Finn, his face tense and drawn, keeps losing his place in his files and forgetting issues they’ve just discussed, that Armitage finally cracks. 

 

‘Galliano’s galoshes, Finn,’ Armitage exclaims, ‘We just talked about this three flipping minutes ago. Keep the fuck up.’

 

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Finn mutters. He looks tired, lines around his mouth and eyes, and Rey looks at him in concern.

 

‘Are you okay?’ she asks, and Finn shrugs.

 

‘Well, of course he’s not  _ okay,  _ Rey,’ Armitage rolls his eyes. ‘His girlfriend is clearly having the most horrific pregnancy ever and the man doesn’t look like he’s slept in weeks. Honestly, I’ve seen potatoes left out in the midday sun with better complexions than Finn has at the moment.’

 

‘Armitage!’ Rey snaps, her eyes flicking to Finn with worry.

 

But Armitage throws up his hands. ‘What? Are we never going to discuss the fact that Rose is having a baby? Or... oh,’ suddenly, Armitage pales. ‘Oh, unless she’s just fat. Oh God, sorry. All in the stomach, hey? Classic apple shape.’

 

Finn winces. ‘No, she’s pregnant.’

 

Both Rey and Armitage nod, Rey feeling a clench of inexplicable pain at the news. So Rose  _ is  _ having a baby. 

 

Rose and Finn are having a baby. They’ll be leaving the island, after all. 

 

And leaving her, by default, with it.

 

‘Congratulations,’ Rey whispers, and Finn gives her a small smile.

 

‘We have a scan booked in Sydney next month. Rose will be twenty weeks.’

 

Armitage’s mouth drops open. ‘She’s  _ not even twenty weeks _ ? But she’s so... so round.’

 

Rey glares at him, and he gives Finn a big, though false, smile. ‘Sorry,’ he backtracks. ‘It must be that classic apple shape... she’s carrying it all around her middle.’

 

Finn, to his credit, ignores Armitage. His attention is all on Rey. ‘Maz knows,’ he tells her gently. ‘We wanted to tell you too, but Rose’s pregnancy has been difficult, and we didn’t want to jinx anything,’ he clears his throat, reaching out to take one of her hands. ‘When we go for the scan... we won’t be coming back. I’ve taken a job with a university back in Ohio. Engineering lecturing. Sorry, Rey.’

 

‘No, no,’ Rey says, through a voice heavy with unshed tears. ‘No, don’t be sorry.’    

 

‘Maz is going to recruit a new engineer for the facility,’ Finn squeezes her hand. ‘A new researcher too, if she can get one.’

 

Rey nods, unable to speak.

 

But Armitage breaks the silence. He snaps his fingers, looking at Finn pointedly.

 

‘Maybe it's twins?’ he suggests. ‘Maybe that’s why she’s so big so early on.’

 

‘Armitage,’ Rey groans, but he looks at her askance.

 

‘What?’ he asks. ‘Twins  _ are  _ a possibility, yes?’

 

She sighs. ‘I suppose so. Multiple births are common in marine fish -not sharks, though - but not so much in marine mammals.’

 

Now Armitage sighs. ‘Always back to the fish with you, isn’t it? Wait,’ he stops, ‘You mean sharks aren’t mammals?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘But they give birth to live baby sharks, right?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘But they’re not mammals?’

 

‘No,’ Rey explains. ‘They don’t breastfeed their young.’

 

Armitage’s face screws up in disgust. ‘Well, that’s more information than I needed to know. Eww. I’ll thank you not to use the word ‘breast’ around me again.’

 

‘Some sharks do conceive multiple young though,’ Rey continues on, a devious smile on her face. 

 

‘Right,’ Armitage nods. ‘Good for them.’

 

‘Not really,’ Rey replies. ‘The first fetus to grow teeth in the womb kills and devours their siblings.’

 

Armitage pales. He stands up, pushing his laptop away from him. ‘Well, I’m not going to minute that piece of news from our staff meeting, am I now?’ He shudders. ‘You know what? I’m just going to minute that Rose and Finn are fucking off, and that Maz is going to hire a new engineer and researcher, okay? Eww,’ he shudders again. ‘I mean honestly, Rey... the crap you keep in your brain.’

 

She shrugs, and Finn grins at her as Armitage leaves the office. 

 

‘At least he stopped talking about classic apple shapes,’ Finn nudges her arm.

 

And Rey smiles back, even though her heart is breaking a little inside.

 

***

 

Just as she’s about to go to sleep that night, a text from Maz lights up Rey’s phone. She sits up, swiping on the message and reading it with interest.

 

_ I know you know about Rose and Finn and their happy news,  _ Maz writes.  _ Well, now I can tell you that I’ve managed to find you a new engineer. He’s experienced, a hard worker, and looking forward to a new challenge. _

 

_ Rey,  _ Maz adds,  _ I’m sure you’re going to just love him. _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, just who could the new engineer be?


	10. Japanese Shrimp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I went away for the summer.
> 
> Hopefully this will wrap up nicely over the next few weeks.

Beads of sweat are trickling down Rey’s face and back when she stumbles into the office that Friday. Her clothes are damp, sticking to her skin in unattractive and lumpy patches, while her hair is slicked back into an uneven ponytail. 

 

Hux, lounging in her chair, his manicured feet peeking out of a floor length pink sarong, raises an eyebrow at her.

 

‘Tough morning?’ He asks, painting his fingernails a shade of red that all at once complements and clashes with his clothing.

 

‘Illegal fishermen over by the cove,’ Rey replies blankly, downing a large glass of water. ‘Had to get the Australian border patrol involved.’

 

‘Hmm,’ Hux looks bored, because for all that he’s been on the island for four months, he’s still unimpressed by the smorgasbord of marine life on display, and downright dismissive of Rey’s efforts to save it. ‘Any good looking sailors?’

 

Rey stares at him. ‘I wasn’t thinking of... I didn’t even look... I...’

 

Hux groans. ‘God. You wouldn’t, would you?’ He rolls his eyes at her. ‘I’m so horny. So fucking horny. I could just do with a good shag, you know?’

 

Rey swallows. ‘Oh. Oh, well, what about one of the volunteers... I mean, so long as they were up for it - I mean, I don’t want to act as their... their pimp or anything... but you wouldn’t be the first to partake of one of them, and...’ 

 

She’s blushing horribly now, and Hux swings his long legs down from her desk and gives her a wide grin.

 

‘Why, what are you confessing to?’ He queries her, as though he has no idea, when Rey knows full well that he does, and that he’s enjoying this. ‘Partake?’ He adds with a wink. ‘Good word for it. Almost like a dessert. A long, slow, and wet dessert. Mmm.’

 

‘Eww,’ Rey says, but Hux only gives her, once again, that lascivious grin. 

 

‘So, tell me who you  _ partook  _ of, you dirty thing?’

 

Rey swallows again. ‘When I first got here... after... after...’ she refuses to say  _ his  _ name. ‘Anyway, there was a volunteer here from Israel. We spent a few months together.’

 

She tries to recall memories of Seth, of his skin and taste and the feel of him against her. But, as always, whenever she recalls her sexual history, it’s Ben’s face she sees, and Ben’s skin she tastes, and Ben’s smile, soft and secret and just for her, that she recalls against her cheek.

 

But Hux is nodding enthusiastically, encouraging her on, vicariously living through her, and she shrugs.

 

‘It was nothing,’ she finishes weakly, and Hux’s face falls.

 

‘Nothing? You were fucking an Israeli stranger on a triopical island, and it was... nothing?’

 

Rey shrugs.

 

Hux whistles at her. ‘Wow. So, Ben Solo really fucked you up for all others, didn’t he?’

 

Rey’s eyes snap up. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

 

‘No,’ Hux replies slowly. ‘No, you never do.’ Abruptly, he sighs. ‘Okay, so... what’s the plan for the rest of today? Shuffleboard? Monopoly? Another rousing game of Uno over a bottle of cheap wine? Who needs sex when we have the Parker brothers, hey?’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘I just want to shower and get some sleep.’

 

Hux stares at her. ‘Sleep? But it’s only five o’clock. If you go to bed now, you won’t sleep tonight.’

 

Rey stretches out her legs, rubbing the kinks and knots from her sore muscles. ‘I think I will,’ she tells him. ‘Besides, I’m picking up the new engineer tomorrow morning from the wharf. Early arrival. 6am.’

 

Hux looks at her indignantly. ‘6am? But you’ll miss wake-up yoga.’

 

Rey sighs. ‘I never signed up for wake-up yoga in the first place.’

 

Hux goes back to painting his nails. ‘Whatever. If you want to piss off the instructor by missing another session yet  _ again - _ ’

 

‘You’re the instructor,’ Rey reminds him flatly. ‘In fact, you’re the one who invented ‘wake-up yoga’ here. You’re the one who insists on thirty volunteers with varying masters degrees and post docs in biology and environmental sciences meeting in the bloody rainforest for downward dog and shoulder stands.’

 

‘And aren’t we all happier for it?’ Hux replies easily. ‘Now, come here and let me paint your nails.’

 

‘No,’ Rey says. ‘There’s no point. It will only chip off.’

 

‘Well aren’t we little-miss-glass-half-full today?’ Hux blows on his fingertips. ‘Of course it will chip off. Eventually. But today it will look beautiful, and today is the day that counts. Didn’t your parents ever tell you to let tomorrow worry about itself?’

 

‘I didn’t have parents,’ Rey replies, ‘I was abandoned and then fostered out.’ 

 

Hux gives her a look that isn’t quite pity, but not quite compassion either. He looks almost... affectionately pensive, and Rey stares at him.

 

‘Well shit,’ he eventually exhales. ‘That’s rotten luck.’

 

‘Mmm.’

 

‘Well,’ he suddenly says, more brightly. ‘Come here, little-orphan-Annie, I’m doing those nails whether you like it or not. And you aren’t missing wake-up yoga tomorrow. If anyone needs more  _ namaste  _ in their life, it's you.’

 

‘What?’ Rey raises an eyebrow. ‘Are we just going to let our new engineer find his own way to base? He has the tools to possibly fix the WiFi, Armitage. The Great British Bake-off starts again soon. Just think of all the baking we could be watching.’             

 

For a moment, Hux looks torn. ‘Yoga or Bake-off,’ he reflects. ‘You’re a cruel woman, for making me choose.’

 

‘But I’m not making you choose -’

 

‘Tell you what,’ Hux straightens suddenly, his nail brush waving merrily in the air, leaving spots of bright pink polish on Rey’s desk. ‘I’ll go and pick up the engineer tomorrow morning at 6am, while you do the morning report, and then we can both do wake-up yoga at half seven.’

 

‘I’m not that bothered by wake-up yoga -’ Rey starts to protest, but Hux shushes her, running a brush over her nails in a prescise, upward pink stroke.

 

‘I’ll get the engineer,’ he says, more firmly. ‘You do the morning reports. What’s this bloke’s name, anyway? The one I’m picking up tomorrow?’

 

‘I don’t know’ Rey confesses. ‘The WiFi’s been down so long now I haven’t had his resume or file yet. And the phone lines have been so dodgy recently that all my calls with Maz have been broken. All I know is that his boat is docking tomorrow.’ She pauses. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine though. He’s an engineer. How bad can he be?’

 

Hux shrugs. ‘If he fixes the WiFi so I can watch bake-off and catch up on my blogging, he’ll be treated like a God around here.‘

 

‘You have a blog?’ Rey asks.

 

‘Yes. It’s called  _ MetroHuxuality.  _ A lifestyle, fashion and thinkpiece blog for the modern man.’

 

‘Oh. That sounds lovely.’

 

‘Don’t be so fucking patronising. As if you’re a modern man. Look at the state of these nails, for one thing. Jesus, don’t you own a piece of equipment that isn’t to do with fishing?’

 

‘Marine biology,’ Rey corrects him.

 

‘Whatever. Next furlough, buy yourself a nail file.’

 

‘We don’t get furloughs,’ Rey argues. ‘This isn’t the armed services.’

 

‘There’s no WiFi, we live in huts on a tropical island and eat food from tins. You’re right. The armed services would be a thousand times better. And we’d get uniforms there, at least.’

 

‘Khaki ones,’ Rey reminds him.

 

But Hux shrugs. ‘Look at my cheekbones. I can make any print work.’

 

‘You’re so bossy,’ Rey replies, not quite kindly, watching Hux paint her nails.

 

But Hux looks delighted by her words. ‘Aww, thanks. Now shut up so I can concentrate. Your nails are so brittle and I don’t want the polish to bubble.’’

 

***

 

Rey’s midway through the morning report when Hux, out of breath and red-faced, stumbles into her room.

 

‘Armitage -’

 

But he waves his hand, desperately trying to catch his breath. He’s wearing his yoga gear-  a mesh pair of leggings in a lurid purple print, a headband across his forehead and a crop top with ‘Save the Japanese Whaling industry’ spread across it, a statement Rey can only pray he is wearing ironically. 

 

“We’re friends, right?’ He eventually puffs out, and Rey stares at him.

 

‘Have you been drinking?’ She asks, knowing full well that, along with ‘wake-up yoga’, Hux is inordinately fond of a morning mimosa.

 

‘Just the one with breakfast,’ he replies, and Rey groans.

 

‘Armitage -’

 

‘Don’t be a joykiller,’ he immediately retorts. ‘Booze is what’s getting me through this Captain Planet and the Planeteers lifestyle you’ve got going on here. Besides, I normally burn the alcohol off during wake-up yoga, although this morning, my sprint from the wharf to here might have taken care of that.’

 

Rey sits up. ‘Why did you sprint from the wharf?’ Abruptly she stops, and stares at him. ‘Where’s the new engineer? You didn’t ditch him, did you?’

 

‘What am I, fucking twelve?’ Hux looks affronted. ‘No, I didn’t ditch him.’ He stares at her. ‘We’re friends, right?’

 

Rey pauses. Are they friends? Certainly, since Finn and Rose left, Hux has partially filled the gaping hole they left in her life. True, he never calls her by her name, instead using words like ‘you’ or ‘missy’ or ‘fish nun’, but on the whole, he’s cordial to her. He drags her out of bed in the morning for mimosas and yoga and refuses to let her steal away to her cabin at night, instead forcing her through rounds and rounds of board games while he namedropped all the celebrities he’d apparently shagged. 

 

‘You did not have sex with Tallie Lintra. Or Dopheld Mitaka,’ Rey once argued, only for Hux to wink at her.

 

‘Oh, yes I did. I did Doppie twice in fact. Let’s just say that he likes to be pushed around,’ he smirked.

 

Now, Rey nods slowly at him. ‘Yes. Yes, I guess we are friends.’

 

‘Right,’ Hux drops into child’s pose in the corner of her room. He begins to stretch his arms and legs, purple spandex straining over well defined muscles. ‘I think better when I stretch,’ he announces, to no one in particular, and Rey shrugs, waiting for him to stop thinking and stretching and start talking.

 

‘Okay. So tell me, what’s going on?’

 

‘One more cat’s pose,’ he replies, and Rey sighs, going back to her laptop and the morning report.

 

Ten minutes later, and Hux stands, coming over and patting Rey’s shoulder awkwardly.

 

‘There, there,’ he says, and Rey looks up at him.

 

‘What the hell are you doing?’

 

‘Comforting you,’ he says. 

 

‘Okay. And dare I ask  _ why  _ you are comforting me?’

 

‘So,’ Hux begins. ‘I got up this morning and had my mimosa and eggs, before donning my Gucci boots and trekking over to the wharf. I waited for the new engineer, took a few selfies while his boat pulled in-  because you know, my blog- and anyway, he turns up with a bag slung over his shoulder and this... this beard thing all over his face and I’m like, ‘fuck, me, the world works in strange ways,’ and he stared at me too. And he was all like, ‘what are you doing here?’ And I was all ‘No, what are you doing here?’ And he was like, ‘Oh, Maz gave me this job and I’ve been travelling the world for years now searching for -’

 

‘Armitage,’ Rey interrupts. ‘What are you talking about?’

 

Hux takes a deep breath, patting Rey’s shoulder again. ‘There, there,’ he says.

 

‘Armitage,’ Rey warns, and he sighs.

 

‘The new engineer... the one Maz hired to replace Finn. It’s Ben Solo.’

 

All the colour must drain from Rey’s face, because Hux starts to fret. ‘Oh God, I knew I should’ve made you a mimosa first. I was just so frightened he would come in here to introduce himself and catch you unawares -  and wearing that... that  _ ensemble  _ you’ve got on- and then you’d be at a disadvantage and -’

 

‘Armitage,’ Rey breathes at last, her words spoken from a dry mouth and throat. ‘What did you say?’

 

Hux pats her shoulder again.

 

‘I said, the new engineer. The one whose replacing Finn. It’s Ben Solo.’

 

***

 

_ It’s one of those quiet evenings she loves. One where Ben’s here and warm and comforting, one where the sounds of the city play upon her walls, the sounds of cars and horns and trains and planes but a distant thrum. _

 

_ They’re in her bed, wrapped up in her sheets, under the thick duvet she had imported from London, because ultimately she’s British and the thought of sleeping without a thick layer of synthetic stuffing is as appealing as sleeping alone. Ben’s chest is bare, slick with perspiration, and she runs her fingers along a collar-bone absent-mindedly. Her body is heavy with sleep and sexual satisfaction, and her head, pleasantly tucked against Ben’s shoulder, lolls in time with her deep breathing. _

 

_ ‘Don’t fall asleep, not yet,’ Ben whispers into her ear, and she smiles against his skin. _

 

_ ‘I’m tired,’ she replies, and Ben sighs. _

 

_ ‘If you fall asleep I’ll have to leave,’ he tells her, and she forces herself to open her eyes.  _

 

_ Because yes. Of course. He never stays the night.  _

 

_ It’s one of the rules, though whether it's for her benefit or his or Kaydel’s she doesn’t know.  _

 

_ And she’ll never ask. _

 

_ She’s scared of what the answer might be. _

 

_ ‘Talk to me,’ she says quietly. ‘Keep me awake. Tell me something interesting.’ _

 

_ He grins. ‘Normally it's you telling me interesting things, Starfish.’ _

 

_ ‘Mmm,’ she agrees sleepily. ‘All the more reason for you to take a turn then.’ _

 

_ He pauses, pondering her request, running a hand up and down the smooth line of her stomach. _

 

_ ‘I’ve been reading this book recently,’ he starts, and she raises her head to look up at him.  _

 

_ ‘A book? What about?’ _

 

_ ‘Marine biology,’ he confesses, with a slight blush. ‘It was on a recommended reading list from your dissertation.’ _

 

_ Now Rey sits up. ‘You read my dissertation?’ _

 

_ He shrugs. ‘Yeah. When you first joined that rig at First Order. I wanted to know more about you. It was available online so I downloaded it and read it from start to finish.’ _

 

_ Rey smiles at him. ‘I don’t even think my professor read that thing through from start to finish.’ _

 

_ ‘It was good,’ Ben tells her, and she can’t hear a lie in his voice. ‘Anyway, after San Antonio I went back to it. Picked up all the books you referenced or recommended. I just started reading one by a Japanese marine biologist... Yoda or something, I don’t know -’ _

 

_ ‘You read Doctor Yoda’s work?’ _

 

_ ‘You recommended it,’ Ben replies blankly, and Rey grins at him. _

 

_ ‘I don’t even remember it, to be honest. His was one of the a series of works called the Jedi texts. They’re... weighty. Not exactly page-turners.’ _

 

_ Ben grins back. ‘I do use it when I can’t sleep, I have to admit. But there was this one study he did, on shrimp, and -’ _

 

_ Rey crosses her legs on the bed, suddenly wide awake, staring down at Ben in amazement. _

 

_ ‘You really read Doctor Yoda’s work?’ She asks, and he shrugs again. _

 

_ ‘You recommended it. And anyway, this shrimp study, it was good. Made me smile.’ _

 

_ ‘Why? I thought people only smiled at shrimp when they were deep-fried and dipped in mayonnaise.’ _

 

_ Ben prods her stomach playfully. ‘Maybe you and your bottomless pit of a stomach do, Starfish. But yeah, it made me smile.’ _

 

_ ‘Why?’ She queries, and Ben sits up, kissing her shoulder blade. _

 

_ ‘So, there are these deep sea sponges. I can’t remember their exact name... Venus’s flowers, or something -’ _

 

_ ‘Oh,’ Rey thinks for a moment. ‘You mean Eupectella Aspergillum. Glass sponges.’ _

 

_ ‘Yeah,’ Ben says. ‘That’s it. Anyway, they provide a home for Shrimp. Yoda pointed out that the flexible silica the sponges are made from are a perfect refuge for them. But, there’s limited space in each one. So, a mated pair of shrimp will claim one, and stay there forever. There isn’t space for anyone else.’ _

 

_ Rey lays back down, wrapping an arm around Ben’s chest. ‘That sounds nice,’ she says. _

 

_ ‘Yeah,’ Ben agrees softly. ‘It’s just the two of them, spending their days cleaning their little glass homes and eating food and having babies. The babies leave, and then it's just them again. Forever and ever.’ _

 

_ ‘Mmm,’ Rey smiles. ‘And that made you smile?’ _

 

_ Ben squeezes her. ‘That, and the fact that it's now good luck in Japan to give a fossilised glass sponge with the mated shrimp inside as a gift to newlyweds. Made me... I don’t know. Kind of happy.’ _

 

_ Rey nods. ‘I’ll have to give Doctor Yoda’s work another try, it seems. If it made you smile, it must be worth reading.’ _

 

_ They fall back into companionable silence, each stroking the other’s skin, and Rey feels warm with happiness, pleasure, and something else, something deeper, something she can’t quite put a word to. _

 

_ ‘Don’t fall asleep,’ Ben warns her, and she opens her eyes briefly. He’s so warm and there and he smells divine in her bed. ‘I have to leave if you fall asleep.’ He stares at her. ‘Never thought I’d see the day I was jealous of a shrimp.’ _

 

_ She nods again, valiantly trying to open her eyes. ‘Don’t be jealous,’ she wants to tell him. ‘Stay. Don’t leave.’ _

 

_ But the words don’t quite leave her lips, and when she next opens her eyes he’s gone. _

 

_ He left her. Just as he always does. _

 

_ Just as he always will. _

 

_ Because this is not a glass sponge, and they are not shrimp.  _

 

_ Just Ben and Rey.  _

 

_ And she doesn’t know what to do anymore. _

 

_ But then, maybe she never has. _

 

_ *** _

 

He has a beard now. It’s full and dark, and his skin, now so inexplicably browned, makes him look swarthy, almost piratical. She takes comfort from the fact that his hair is still the same, curling slightly at the ends, just hitting his shoulders, and she can recall running her hand through the strands. He’s as tall and broad as ever, dressed practically in a shirt and light trousers, boots on his feet. 

 

Whoever prepped him for life on this island did well, Rey thinks from the shadows.

 

It’s dinner time on the island, and Ben is sitting with a crowd of volunteers, looking tired but happy. Rey watches from a darkened doorway, taking her fill of him, fighting back tears and memories and the urge to run and throw herself into his arms.

 

‘Go and talk to him,’ a voice whispers beside her, and Rey jumps, finding Hux standing beside her, now out of his spandex and dressed in a Hawaiian print robe with okobo shoes and crisp white ankle socks on his feet.

 

‘I can’t,’ she replies honestly, and he nods. 

 

‘Right. So, what do we do? Do we hide you on the island for the next three years? Or him? You know, once he’s fixed the WiFi we could always dispatch him. I mean, this is a big island and he’s... well, he’s a fucking brick... but still, there are lots of hidden coves and deep waters. And sharks. Don’t forget the sharks. Hopefully we’ll find a really hungry one. You know, one that isn’t still full from eating all his siblings in utero.’

 

‘Armitage,’ Rey chides, and he shrugs. 

 

‘You can’t hide forever. Pretty soon one of those volunteers is going to mention you,’ he grins at her. ‘Hopefully one of the ones you’ve shagged.’

 

‘ _ Armitage _ ,’ Rey says again.

 

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he says, without looking at all apologetic.

 

But his words strike a chord in Rey’s mind, and she tears her eyes from Ben to look at him.

 

‘Did you...’ she begins uncertainly. ‘Did you tell him I was here?’

 

‘Oh no,’ Hux replies immediately. ‘I would never do that.’

 

‘But you must have referred to me,’ she continues. ‘I manage this facility, after all. He must have asked after his new manager.’

 

And oh God, that’s right. How the tables have turned.  _ She’s  _ Ben’s manager now.

 

‘Of course he did,’ Hux replies. ‘I just called you ‘The Doctor’.’

 

Rey stares at him. ‘ _ The Doctor? _ ’ She repeats back at him. ‘What, like Doctor flipping Who?’

 

Hux grins. ‘Why not? You’re the doctor with your...’ he glances at her. ‘Well, with  _ your  _ clothes, and I’m your fabulous assistant with my fabulous outfits. And this island is our Tardis, only we don’t go anywhere or do anything because instead of travelling through space and time we’re feeding the fucking fish, all day every day.’

 

‘Marine biology,’ Rey says again, tightly, training her eyes on Ben once more.

 

‘He looks good,’ Hux remarks.

 

‘Yes,’ Rey agrees. 

 

‘That’s a bitch, isn’t it?’ Hux continues. ‘I mean honestly, after what happened with Kaydel you think he would’ve gained fifty pounds or something. Comfort eating and all that shit. But no, not for Mr. Fucking perfect Solo with his oil millions and rustic good looks. Urgh. I feel a blog coming on,’ Hux’s eyes darken. ‘He better fix the wifi, that’s all I’ve got to say.’

 

‘Wait,’ Rey turns to him. ‘What do you mean, what happened with Kaydel? You mean they aren’t married?’

 

Hux stares at her. ‘Umm, no?’

 

Rey’s mouth falls open. ‘What?’ She says. ‘What?’ She says again.

 

‘Ben didn’t marry Kaydel, you know that, right?’ Hux says. ‘So, they’re engaged and all, and then, day of the wedding, he just disappears. Leaves a note in perfect calligraphy - I mean, he didn’t even  _ WhatsApp  _ Kaydel to let her know, just left a handwritten note like some Victorian opium user- and disappears off the face of the Earth. Leia went ape-shit. Threatened to disinherit him. Threatened to have him taken to court. He sends a letter -handwritten again, because I guess he’s extra like that - and tells his mother that he’s going to go and find his Starfish to share a glass shrimp house with and to fuck all her money and his inheritance and that he can’t marry a woman he doesn’t love for his family and other such bullshit.’ Hux shrugs. ‘My best bet is the stress got to him. Or drugs. Why else would he talk such nonsense. More than that... Why else would he be here?’

 

When he stops, he turns to Rey, and his face softens. ‘Oh, hey, you’re crying. Are you... okay?’ Hux pats her on the back again, his hand awkward on her shoulder. ‘There, there. There, there.’

 

‘I thought he got married,’ Rey whispers, and Hux shakes his head.

 

‘Oh, the wedding would have been grand. If it had gone ahead. He left it so last minute that guests actually turned up and Leia herself was there to turn them away. Told everyone that the wedding was delayed.’

 

Rey shakes her head. ‘I have to go,’ she tells him, and turning on her heel, she flees the room for the safety of her cabin.

 

She needs to think, and she can’t do that with Hux watching.

 

She needs to breathe, and she can’t do that with Ben in her sights.

 

And so, once in the privacy of her room, she curls under the covers of her bed.

 

Just a starfish, all alone.

 

A shrimp, waiting to share her glass house.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the Hux in this is my favourite character I’ve written ever. He’s such an indulgence, sorry for that.


	11. Decorator Crab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to Tamara @voicedimplosives for letting me borrow something here.
> 
> And yes... the chapter count went up. I’ve added one extra chapter plus an epilogue. 
> 
> I know, I know... but I really want the HEA to sing with this one.

At around midnight, Rey decides to take a shower. She’d hidden under her bedsheets until the baking humidity and warm evening air made it impossible to remain cocooned away from the world- away from  _ Ben  _ \- any longer. Now, her skin damp and sweaty and her clothes an unpleasant weight against her skin, she needs to feel the cool rivulet of water on her body. Needs to breathe fresh air, to clear her mind of the stagnant memories of the past. 

 

She tiptoes to the communal bathrooms, noting with relief that most of the lights across the complex are off, her staff and volunteers probably fast asleep, so they can be up at the crack of dawn for wake-up yoga.

 

She finds a stall at the back of the building and turns the water to hot, so that her body stings under the fine needles of water, her skin turning pink as the steam swirls around her. She takes deep gulps of air, rubbing her forehead tiredly, before she soaps her body and washes her hair, taking longer than the normally allotted three minutes, because - quite frankly - fuck water preservation at times like this.

 

It’s only when her fingertips start to prune that Rey turns the water off with a sigh, momentarily laying her head against the faded tiles, her body at least relaxed, even if her mind and heart are still working overtime. She wraps a towel around her body, gathering up her small caddy of eco-shampoo and soap, before leaving the stall and beginning the walk back to her cabin.

 

Her feet are damp and the tiled floor is slippery beneath them, so she keeps her eyes to the ground, watching for puddles, clutching her towel around her middle. She shivers slightly in the midnight air, biting her bottom lip as she negotiates the cool ground, her brow furrowed as she steps over a crack in the floor -

 

And walks straight into a warm mass by the door of the building.

 

She swears lightly, because she knows -   _ she knows  _ \- exactly what, or  _ who, _ this mass is. 

 

She knows this warmth. Knows this smell. Knows the all-encompassing feeling of comfort it seems to light within her.

 

With a deep breath, she forces her head up, forces herself to look up and open herself to the man before her. She raises her eyes and meets the deep brown ones of Ben, who stares at her in shock, his skin paling, his pupils dilating.

 

‘Hello Ben,’ she says, her voice unnervingly calm, her body no longer shivering.

 

She waits for a moment. Waits for a sardonic reply, or for his voice, that soft and caramel rich voice of his, to call her ‘starfish’. She waits for his eyes to linger over her body, waits for him to mentally remove the towel from her waist, or for him to make a move on her.

 

But he doesn’t reply. 

 

He doesn’t move at all, in fact. He just stares at her, his mouth slightly open, his hands hanging loose at his sides. 

 

After a full minute, she shakes her head, turning on her heel, ready to walk away from him, not quite ready to face  _ him,  _ or them, or whatever the fuck this is, in this particular moment.

 

‘Right,’ she says as she turns, pushing past him and heading for her cabin.

 

But his hand suddenly locks around her arm, and now he’s shaking his head, inhaling deeply before her.

 

‘No,’ he says, through a voice that sounds thick with emotion, ‘no, please, don’t go... no, just wait.’

 

It’s so reminiscent of their parting three years earlier that Rey feels her eyes sting with tears, a lump forming in her throat.

 

‘Ben -’ she starts, before finding herself at a loss for words.

 

Because what can she say, really? What words can do justice to how she feels, how she’s felt, in this moment?

 

But Ben only exhales, biting on his own lip, staring at her still.

 

‘Ben -’ she says again, but now he’s shaking his head, using the hand on her arm to draw her close.

 

He pulls her into his arms, and as her head meets the broad expanse of his chest, she feels his other hand work it's way into the damp mass of her hair, his head burrowing onto her shoulder. He crushes her to him, and she feels a warm drop of water against the bare skin of her shoulder.

 

A tear.

 

Ben’s tear.

 

He’s shaking slightly as he holds her, and when he speaks, his voice is tremulous, almost unfamiliar in it's uncertainty.

 

‘Rey,’ he says, ‘where have you been, baby? Thank God. Thank God, I’ve found you. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’

 

‘Ben -’ she tries one more time, but his arm tightens around her once more.

 

‘No, please, no - not yet. Just let me have this. Just for a moment. You don’t have to... just let me hold you. Just for a little while.’

 

And she nods. She nods, and lets him hold her.

 

But she can’t help the arm that wraps itself around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

 

She can’t help the treacherous leap of hope that fills her heart.

 

She can’t help the tear that trickles down her own cheek, falling into the dark strands of his hair.

 

She can’t help the words that fall gently from her lips.

 

‘Ben,’ she says, one final time. ‘Ben. I’ve missed you.’

 

***

 

They’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat in irritation. 

 

Rey jumps away from Ben as though he burned her, clutching at her towel again, her cheeks blushing furiously red as she meets Armitage’s blank expression.

 

‘Twelve hours,’ Armitage drawls. ‘He’s been on the island less than twelve hours and you’re already half-naked and in his arms. Jesus, I know you can’t hold back the tide and all that but didn’t you ever hear of playing hard to get?’

 

It shouldn’t be possible, but Rey blushes harder. 

 

‘Armitage... we weren’t... nothing was going on... I mean...’

 

Hux gives a bored shrug. ‘Sure, whatever. You could do this in private though, rather than in the  _ communal bathrooms. _ ’

 

Rey stares at him. He’s wearing a full red tracksuit with the adidas insignia, a pair of slippers on his feet.

 

‘What are you wearing?’ She asks him warily.

 

Momentarily, Armitage’s eyes drift away from her and Ben to his outfit. When he looks back up, his expression is almost a sneer.

 

‘Well, it's midnight,’ he says pointedly. ‘So I’m in the best of Prada’s fall collection.’

 

‘Really?’ Rey asks. ‘But it’s -’

 

Armitage groans. ‘No, not really. I’m in my fucking pyjamas, what do you think this is?’

 

‘It looks like an Adidas tracksuit,’ Ben suddenly intones, and Rey and Armitage both look at him.

 

‘Well, it looked like you and Miss Oceanography here were getting up to old bad habits again just now, but I’m told that  _ nothing was going on  _ so things aren’t often how they look, now are they?’

 

‘It does look like a tracksuit though,’ Rey says carefully. ‘You have to admit that.’

 

Armitage shrugs. ‘That’s the point. These are my  _ Fetch  _ pyjamas.’

 

Rey looks at him blankly. ‘I don’t know what that even is.’

 

Armitage rolls his eyes. ‘Of course you don’t. Why would you?  _ Fetch  _ is only the biggest television show out there right now. The will-they-won’t-they relationship between Kyril and Irina is top notch grade A entertainment.’

 

‘I thought The Handmaid’s Tale was the biggest thing on television right now?’ Ben asks, and Hux looks at him.

 

‘No, it's definitely  _ Fetch.  _ But whatever. Red hoods or red tracksuits... 1994 is all the rage these days.’

 

Rey clears her throat. ‘This is the Pacific Ocean, Armitage. It’s a million degrees out here. Aren’t you hot in all that polyester?’ She pointedly stares at him, and not at Ben, whose body she can feel, hot and firm, beside her. ‘And isn’t that polyester?’

 

‘I don’t wear polyester,’ Hux chides. ‘This is silk. Everyone should wear silk at night here. Helps the skin breathe in all the humidity.’

 

He taps his feet suddenly, looking at Rey and Ben with clear annoyance.

 

‘You know what else people should wear at night?’ He asks. ‘Condoms,’ he answers bluntly, looking at Rey. ‘I don’t want you doing Mr Israel round two here and getting yourself into a Finn and Rose situation.’

 

‘ _ Armitage _ ,’ Rey snaps, but he only holds up his hands.

 

‘Someone has to say it. I’m not getting up at two in the morning to rip up my Egyptian cotton bedsheets or boil water because you have an issue with latex and the environment.’

 

‘But I don’t have... I mean, so long as nothing gets... gets flushed into the ocean...’ Rey stammers helplessly. Finally, she adjusts her towel, and does her best to look at Hux with some degree of authority. ‘Look, what are you even doing up? Like you said, it's midnight.’

 

‘I saw the light in the bathrooms go on,’ Hux explains. ‘I wanted to make sure my Jo Malone shower gel wasn’t accidentally being  _ borrowed _ again.’

 

‘I keep telling you,’ Rey replies through gritted teeth, ‘ No one is  _ borrowing  _ your shower gel. The only person who wants to smell like wild blueberries in the rainforest is you.’

 

‘Someone is stealing my toiletries,’ Armitage says, more firmly now. ‘So, when I saw the light go on, I thought, ah, here’s my chance to catch the shower gel abusing little thief right in the act.’ He glances at her and Ben again. ‘Instead, I caught myself a whole different kind of act.’

 

‘Go back to bed, Armitage,’ Rey says. ‘There’s nothing to see here.’

 

‘I disagree,’ Hux replies easily. ‘But whatever, I still need my beauty sleep. I would say you should go to -  wake-up yoga is in six hours, after all - but I get the feeling you’ll be doing a whole different kind of  _ downward dog  _ tonight.’

 

‘ _ Armitage _ ,’ Rey seethes again, but he only shrugs, before glancing at Ben, whose eyes are trained on Hux with a practiced indifference, and the red-head stiffens, before giving Ben a pointed look.

 

‘Can I  _ help  _ you with something? Do we have a problem?’ He leans in closer, poking one immaculate nail into Ben’s shoulder. The nail snaps on impact with the hard muscles of Ben’s body and a twitch develops in one of Hux’s eyes as he takes in the state of his manicure. 

 

‘You might be beefy,’ Hux finally says, his voice tight, ‘and you might be the son of Leia Organa... but I’m wily, like a fox. And if you hurt or otherwise play the fuckwit with my manager here, I’ll destroy you quicker than a shark does it's twin in-utero, you hear me?’

 

Ben held up his hands in a placating gesture. ‘Trust me, I’m not here to hurt anyone.’

 

‘I’ll believe that,’ Hux retorts, as he turns to walk back to his cabin, his silk Adidas tracksuit shining in the moonlight, ‘when I see it happen,’ he turns back to Rey. ‘Don’t touch my wild blueberry shower gel again, and we can stay friends.’

 

‘I didn’t touch your blueberry shower gel!’ Rey shouts after his departing figure. When she turns back to Ben, he’s staring at her, somewhat in disbelief.

 

‘What?’ She asks warily.

 

He shrugs. ‘Nothing, nothing... it’s just, of all the people you could have poached from Resistance, you chose him? It’s a surprise, I have to say.’

 

‘I didn’t poach him,’ she protests instantly. ‘I was upset when I left... but not out of my mind.’ She pauses. ‘Maz hired him.’

 

‘He’s crazy,’ Ben tells her, but Rey shakes her head.

 

‘No, not crazy. He’s... an acquired taste. We have a kind of... symbiotic relationship, I guess.’

 

‘Symbiotic relationship?’ Ben queries, one eyebrow raising slightly.

 

Rey nods. ‘Yes. You know, when two species develop a relationship which mutually benefits them both.’

 

For a moment, Ben gives her a small smile. ‘No. No, I don’t know,’ he smiles again. ‘Tell me?’

 

She looks at him, still feeling on her shoulder the warmth from his earlier tears. Awkwardly, she blows at a stray hair in her eyes, readjusting her towel, suddenly conscious of her near nakedness. Her hands are full, the caddy slipping from her fingers, her towel slipping once more, and she inhales deeply.

 

‘Umm...’

 

But Ben must sense her discomfort, because he reaches out, tenderly drawing a finger along her cheek, pushing the hair behind her ear, just as he takes the caddy from her hands.

 

‘You were saying,’ he says softly, his voice suddenly mesmerising, ‘something about symbiotic relationships?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey clears her throat, tearing her eyes away from Ben’s, pulling her towel higher up and across her chest. ‘So, I guess, in a way, Armitage is like my... my decorator crab.’

 

‘A crab?’ Ben asks. ‘Yeah, I can see that. He’s certainly... snippy.’

 

‘No, I don’t mean literally,’ Rey suddenly stands taller. ‘No, I mean... okay, so the decorator crab normally lives in a reef like environment with ocean sponges, some of which may be toxic. To protect itself from predators, the crab cuts pieces off the sponge, and decorates itself with them.’

 

‘Like camouflage?’ Ben asks.

 

‘Yes, exactly.’

 

He stares at her. ‘Are you the sponge in this story, Rey?’

 

She nods, abruptly feeling ridiculous. ‘Yes... yes, I suppose I am.’

 

‘And Hux is the crab who cuts pieces away from you with which to decorate himself?’ Suddenly, Ben looks full of concern. ‘That’s not symbiotic, Rey. That’s a parasite.’

 

‘Well, not really,’ Rey replies. ‘Because the sponge benefits too. The sponge is stationary, you see, attached to the reef -’

 

‘Like a barnacle,’ Ben interjects, and Rey looks at him. 

 

He remembers their earlier conversations. Something inside her feels warm at that knowledge, and she gives him a small smile.

 

‘Yes, I guess so. A barnacle.’

 

Ben returns her smile. ‘Still keeping stud barnacles in your bedroom, Rey?’

 

‘No,’ she laughs. ‘Not these days.’

 

She doesn’t tell him about the tank in her office. The tank with a half dozen acorn barnacles inside, little volcanic looking creatures who she’s inordinately fond of, and quite seem to let go of, even though her work on them finished two years ago. She feeds them and cares for them and Hux rolls his eyes at her devotion to her ‘pets’.

 

‘God, they all look just like the moles on my Aunt Millicent’s upper lip,’ he shudders. ‘Trust you to have a soft spot for the hardest looking little fuckers on the reef.’

 

But now, with Ben’s eyes locked with hers, she can’t quite admit to their existence.

 

It might lend too much importance to events she swore to forget. 

 

Events she swore didn’t mean anything to her.

 

‘So, how does the sponge benefit then?’ Ben encourages her, and she stares at him. ‘The symbiotic relationship?’ He adds.

 

She knows he remembers her uncanny and often unwelcome ability to go off in tangents.

 

‘Oh,’ she exhales softly, as Ben reaches out again, brushing the hair away once more. ‘So,’ she begins, trying to ignore the frenetic beating of her heart, ‘the sponge needs to eat, like any other creature, and the crab’s movements disperse food into the water around the sponge. So, the sponge gets its dinner, and the crab gets the protection of camouflage. The perfect symbiotic relationship.’

 

‘So Hux is your decorator crab,’ Ben muses.

 

‘Yes. He can be a bit of an irritation to have around, but I’d miss him if he wasn’t here, you know?’

 

She gives a sudden start even as she speaks, feeling the weight of truth in her words.  _ She would miss Hux if he wasn’t around. _

 

‘God, I must be tired,’ she says abruptly. ‘I need to sleep.’

 

‘We need to talk,’ Ben says suddenly.

 

‘We just did,’ Rey retorts. It’s diversion, she knows, but she’s now feeling defensive. 

 

Ben had all the time in the world to talk to her three years ago. 

 

Instead, he was too busy planning his wedding to another woman.

 

‘I’m going to bed,’ she tells him firmly.

 

‘Don’t,’ he pleads. ‘Come back to my cabin -’

 

The look she gives him must be pure daggers, because he reels back. ‘No, no, no,’ he says instantly. ‘I didn’t mean like... please, I didn’t mean for... for  _ that.  _ I just want to talk to you.’

 

‘About us?’ She says tersely.

 

‘We don’t have to,’ he offers. ‘Although you know we have to, eventually.’

 

‘We don’t,’ Rey snaps. ‘We met, we fucked, we broke up. Oh... except we didn’t break up, did we?’ She shakes her head at him slowly. ‘You have to be in a relationship to break up with someone, after all.’

 

‘We were in a relationship,’ Ben replies, his face dark.

 

‘A sexual one. Just a step up from stud barnacle, weren’t you, Ben?’ Rey says, and she sees Ben’s face fall. ‘No, not a barnacle. Like an Elephant Seal, jumping from woman to woman, keeping his harem close even while never letting them leave.’

 

Ben steps back as though Rey has slapped him, and perhaps she did, in a way. She pulls up the towel once more, and pulls the caddy from his hands.

 

‘I’m going to bed.’

 

She turns towards her cabin, forcing herself to walk away from Ben - and God, why is she always walking away from this man? - putting one foot in front of the other, sheer will alone keeping her from turning back.

 

‘I missed you!’ She hears him call out behind her. ‘I loved you, I loved you so much, and I’ve missed you, every goddam day you’ve been away. I’ve missed you, Rey. You have no idea how much I’ve fucking missed you. I’ve missed you... your smell and your eyes and the way you smile before you eat and the way you chew on your lip when you think and you know what? Fuck, I’ve even missed learning shit about stuff I didn’t know... honestly, in five minutes with you I’ve learned about symbiotic relationships, the decorator crab species, and even about toxic sponges... and I didn’t need to know all of that, but somehow... somehow... my world feels like a better place because I do! I’ve missed you, Rey. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

 

At that, she spins on her heel to face him.

 

‘Why should it?’ She asks coldly. ‘Why should how you feel mean anything to me? What, do you think I owe you or something?’

 

‘You owe me the chance to talk, Rey. You owe me that at least,’ Ben replies. ‘Even if you don’t feel anything for me,’ he swallows heavily. ‘Even if I never meant anything to you... you owe me that. It’s been three years, Rey. Three fucking years of everyday replaying our last conversations in my head. Three years of imaginary talks with you in my mind, working through what I would say to you. You owe me that conversation, Rey.’

 

‘Yes, it’s been three years,’ Rey spits back. ‘Three years, and if you wanted so badly to talk to me, well, I certainly wouldn’t know it.... I haven’t heard from you or -’

 

‘I would’ve talked to you, if I knew where the fuck you were, Rey!’

 

‘I wasn’t hiding!’

 

The look Ben gives her is open with pity and a sudden compassion. He gestures to the rainforest around them, to the rustic cabins, the dark skies that loom above them and the crash of the nearby ocean they both can hear. 

 

‘Could’ve fooled me, Rey,’ he says softly. ‘Could’ve fooled me. But then, where you’re concerned, I’m the biggest fool there is.’ He takes a step towards her, a gentle step, almost uncertain, as though testing the limits of her toleration for him.

 

‘Ben -’

 

‘Want to know what I’ve been doing for the last three years, Rey? Want to know where I’ve been?’

 

‘Where have you been?’ She asks, trying to sound bored, pretending to be unaffected by his presence, or his words.

 

But he can see the truth in the naked curiosity of her eyes.

 

‘Alaska,’ he says slowly, taking another tentative step towards her. ‘I went there first.’

 

‘Great. Alaska. Alaska is lovely,’ she replies tersely.

 

Ben takes another step towards her.

 

‘I went to Antarctica after that. Joined a Royal Navy Scientific mission.’

 

‘Alaska wasn’t cold enough for you?’ Rey quips, but Ben doesn’t smile.

 

Instead, he takes another step towards her.

 

‘Then I went to Patagonia, in Chile. I watched some penguins for awhile. Then I went to the Maldives, and then the Cape Verde coast, and then the North Island of New Zealand.’

 

‘You’ve done some travelling,’ Rey remarks. ‘Good for you.’

 

‘I went to Australia after that. Spent a year on the reef.’

 

He takes another step, and Rey can feel the heat emanating from his body now. She shivers, and she knows it’s nothing to do with her current state of undress, or the damp night air.

 

‘You know what all those places have in common, Rey?’

 

She knows, but can’t quite believe it... can’t quite believe that he would do all that, just for  _ her- _

 

‘I was in all those places,’ he replies quietly, ‘because they were known hotspots for Marine biology work.’ He pauses, staring into her eyes, his gaze uncompromising. ‘I was looking for  _ you,  _ Rey.’

 

She takes a deep, sharp breath.

 

‘For me?’ She whsipers, hardly daring to believe it, even though she heard the words fall from his very lips.

 

‘For you,’ he nods. ‘I’ve spent three years looking for you, Rey.’

 

Lightly, almost reverently, he pulls her into his arms again. His body is like liquid chocolate, and she melts against him.

 

‘Please talk to me,’ he begs, and she nods.

 

‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘Yes.’

 

She feels him crumple slightly, his beard brushing against her neck. His body weighs heavy with relief, a relief which is mirrored - only slightly - by the ease of pain in her own.

 

‘Ben -’ she murmurs, and she feels him nestle into her shoulder with a contented sigh.

 

‘Yes, Rey?’

 

‘You never asked... you might not care... but maybe... I don’t...’

 

‘What is it?’ He asks gently.

 

She pulls away. She looks him in the eyes.

 

‘For what it’s worth,’ she offers. ‘I missed you too.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOTS of talking in the next one. It might just be the most dialogue heavy fic chapter I’ve ever written.


	12. Cone Snail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I know this is late. But I wrote a few fics for the fall exchange and then got sick.

The rules have changed.

 

When Rey ushers Ben into her cabin, closing the door quietly behind her, they fall into an awkward and tense silence.

 

She stares at the floor mainly, still clutching her towel to her chest, her hair drying in errant waves around her shoulders. Occasionally she peeks up, letting her eyes rest on Ben. She allows herself to drink him in a little, taking in both the familiar and unfamiliar about him. 

 

The beard is new, a dark shadow that accentuates his high cheekbones, and the point of his jaw... that jaw which she used to kiss and nibble and trace with her tongue. His skin is darker now, slightly tanned, and his freckles are more vibrant for it, sitting proudly against the hard muscles of his body. There are faint lines around his eyes, and Rey stares at them. How old is Ben now? Thirty-eight? Thirty-nine? Abruptly, she wonders what his life has been like these last three years. Oh, she knows what he’s been doing, she knows about his work, his travels... but what about his life? His day-to-day life? Has he woken with smiles or frowns? Has he laughed? Has he cried? Has he had moments of joy, to compensate for the moments of sadness? 

 

It strikes her hard that, despite it all, she wants him to have lived a better life than she has these past few years. Wants him to have been happy. Wants him to have been loved. Wants him not to have suffered from the same soul-crushing loneliness that she has.

 

Almost frantically, she tears herself away from all that is new and unfamiliar about Ben to concentrate on the things about him that she does know, does remember. She steals a glance at his eyes, only to find them firmly locked on her own. They are still brown, still earthy, still loaded with concealed emotions and hidden depths. She breaks away from his gaze to look at his lips. They are as she recalls them, soft and plump and kissable, and she can almost feel them upon her, against her lips and skin, against the places that made her shiver and the places that made her smile.

 

Is it memory? Desire? Or a little of both? She doesn’t know, and she looks at her feet, confused.

 

_ He’s asleep in her bed and she stands before him, a little amused, but mostly uncertain. Her hair is still wet from her shower, sitting damp against her back, and she bites on her lip, wondering what to do. _

 

_ Ben must be exhausted to have gone to sleep so easily here. He never sleeps over. That’s one of their rules, one of the self-imposed limits they have put upon their relationship. When he’d arrived earlier that night, his eyes tired and body stiff, he’d dragged her to bed, throwing himself upon her with an energy she wasn’t certain he really possessed.  _

 

_ His mother must be on his case again, Rey realises. Leia, with her usual terrifying manner, was working her son to the brink of exhaustion and beyond, and all for the company in which she’d staked her name, her family, her fortune and, perhaps most importantly for her, her pride. Ben is pale and tense, with dark circles under his eyes and discomfort written into the lines of his skin. Whenever she sees Ben at work these days, Rey scurries away from him, unable to look at the stress in his eyes. The only time he ever looks even vaguely relaxed is here, in the safe confines of her apartment, under the thick duvet of her bed. _

 

_ Right now, his face is slack and his breathing even, and she’s sorely tempted just to let him sleep. To curl up beside him and burrow herself into his arms, letting sleep steal over her and carry them both away together. She’s never slept in his arms before, and the temptation to do so is strong. _

 

_ But he can’t stay. _

 

_ She knows that. _

 

_ Reluctantly, she walks to the side of the bed, kneeling before him. Gently, she walks her fingers up his arm, lightly tickling his skin. In his sleep he twitches, and she moves her fingers up over his other arm, feeling taut muscle and soft skin beneath her fingertips. _

 

_ ‘Ben,’ she whispers. ‘Wake up.’ _

 

_ He stirs only slightly, and so she runs a hand along his chest, feeling the curve of his shoulder, the smooth skin of his neck, the angular point of his jaw. She presses a kiss there tenderly, running her hand down his cheek, sitting up slightly so that she access more of his body, more of his skin, more of him. _

 

_ She has both of his cheeks in her hands and is sitting astride him by the time she presses her mouth to his. She kisses him only slightly, just a chaste press of her lips to his, and she feels him move beneath her.  _

 

_ ‘Wake up,’ she whispers again. _

 

_ She presses her lips to his once more, letting them linger there, feeling his breath, warm and damp, against her mouth, the taste of him strong and appealing even in sleep.   _

 

_ She almost smiles, releasing one of his cheeks to run a finger along his jaw. She takes her time to outline his lips, pressing down upon them gently, and watching them rise back up when she pulls her finger away.  _

 

_ It’s playful and tender all at once, and she’s bending to kiss him once more when she looks up, and sees that his eyes are open and watching her intently. _

 

_ ‘How long have you been awake?’ she asks softly, and he sighs into her mouth. _

 

_ ‘I wasn’t sure that I was awake,’ he replies gently, and she nods, resting her elbows on his chest and looking down at him. ‘I thought it was a dream,’ he adds, running a hand along the naked plane of her back. _

 

_ ‘A good dream?’ she asks quietly, and he nods. _

 

_ ‘All my dreams of you are good ones, Starfish,’ he hugs her to him. ‘Especially ones that start like this.’ _

 

_ Now he kisses her, softly and sweet, and she wonders briefly if this is real, or only her deepest desire, pulled forth from the hidden recesses of her mind.  _

 

_ Perhaps this isn’t real. _

 

_ Something this good can’t be real. _

 

_ Perhaps she’s only dreaming too. _

 

Rey takes a deep, dragging breath, and Ben looks at her with concern.

 

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, his voice soft, and she shakes herself.

 

‘Yes,’ she says bluntly. ‘I need to dress.’

 

He spins around instantly, facing the wall, and Rey stares at his back. Once upon a time, her nakedness was something she offered him willingly. There were no walls, no averted eyes, no towels to protect modesty. 

 

But the rules have changed.

 

Quickly and quietly, she dresses behind him, watching his shoulders move up and down as he breathes, still hardly believing that he is here and in her cabin. When she’s covered, she runs the towel through the damp ends of her hair, and clears her throat.

 

‘Thanks,’ she says weakly, as he turns and stares at her once more. ‘I don’t have any tea.. Or coffee...’ she starts. ‘But I have water? Or champagne?’

 

He raises an eyebrow at her. ‘Champagne?’

 

She blushes. ‘Maz bought me a bottle for my birthday. I just didn’t get around to...’ she shrugs. ‘There really isn’t much worth celebrating here, I suppose.’

 

Awkwardly, she sits on her bed, folding her feet under her legs and looking up at him. He glances at her, and she sees his eyes linger on her bed, and vaguely, she wonders if he plans on sitting here with her too, his weight heavy and familiar on her mattress, and -

 

And he looks around, until he sees her battered chair in the corner of the room, covered in drying washing.

 

‘May I?’ he asks, clearing his throat, and she flushes. 

 

‘Yes, of course -’ she begins. ‘Umm, just put the clothes on the desk. It’s just some work things, there’s no, umm, underwear or anything, don’t worry -’

 

He turns to stare at her again, and this is mortifying, horrifying beyond belief. Did she really just mention her underwear in front of the man who was always best at tearing it off?

 

But Ben nods, shifting her clothes in one move before lifting the chair easily and putting it next to her bed. He eases himself into it, still staring at her.

 

‘Did you want a drink?’ Rey asks, breaking eye-contact, and looking down at the paisley print of her bed linen. ‘Shall I open the champagne? Or...’

 

Ben huffs out a laugh which is somewhere between bitterly amused or amusingly bitter. ‘No,’ he says softly. ‘No, don’t open your birthday champagne. We were hardly champagne worthy back when we were...’ he trails off, suddenly clenching his fists. ‘This isn’t exactly a champagne occasion, is it Rey?’

 

‘No,’ she shakes her head. ‘No. I guess not.’

 

She looks up from her bed to meet Ben’s eyes. ‘How was your birthday?’ he asks, and she stares at him.

 

‘Which one?’ she asks. He’s never been there for any of them, after all. 

 

He must realise this too, because his face changes. ‘The last one,’ he finally says. ‘Was it good?’

 

She shrugs. She doesn’t really want to tell him that she spent her last birthday sobbing over him. ‘I got older.’

 

He nods, and opens his mouth as though to speak, before closing it again abruptly.

 

‘What?’ Rey asks, and he shrugs.

 

‘Look, nothing, it's just...’ he sighs. ‘I’ve been imagining this moment in my head for three years now and... and it’s not going at all the way I thought that... there’s so much I want to say and I’m sitting here asking about your birthday and being all polite and -’ 

 

He trails off, running a hand tiredly over his face, and Rey feels something inside her soften.

 

‘So, don’t be polite,’ she suggests. ‘Just... just say what you want to say and then -’

 

‘- and then what?’ Ben interrupts sharply. ‘In three years, I’ve been imagining and picturing this conversation... but in three years, I’ve never been able to imagine or guess the outcome. In my head, I always got so far as here and then... and then it just stopped,’ he looks up at her, and she reads despair in his eyes. ‘I love you,’ he says simply. ‘I love you, I do. I loved you then and I’ve loved you everyday since and I still love you now. But in all the conversations I picture between us, I can never get us past this point.’

 

Rey feels her eyes begin to sting. ‘You love me?’ she asks weakly, and he sighs, his head in his hands once more.

 

‘Yeah,’ he mutters. ‘Yeah, I love you.’

 

‘And you’ve been looking for me for three years now?’ 

 

He sighs again. ‘Yeah.’

 

‘Why?’ she whispers. ‘Do you want us to... I don’t know... do you want us to... renew our relationship, or something?’ she asks.

 

Her heart breaks a little when Ben looks up, his face heavy with sorrow, and shakes his head.

 

‘Rey,’ he whispers back. ‘Rey, I don’t think that was a relationship  _ worth  _ renewing, do you?’

 

His words both wind and wound her, and she sucks in a breath, feeling agony creep over her body and settle into her soul.

 

‘Why?’ she asks desperately. ‘Why are you here then? If you don’t want... don’t want me...’ her words tremble, and she snakes her arms around her waist, trying to hold herself together. ‘Why find me, to just do this?’

 

Ben groans, standing and walking over to the bed. Without a second thought, he clambers beside her, wrapping his arms around her and laying them both on the mattress. His arms tighten around her, and he kisses her forehead tenderly. 

 

‘Rey, baby, please,’ he whispers into her skin, and she swallows back a sob. 

 

‘Did you really come here to break my heart all over again?’ she cries, and she feels him exhale against her.

 

‘Fuck, no,’ he mutters into her hair. ‘No, no, no, baby, no,’ he punctuates his words with kisses. ‘Rey, I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.’

 

‘But you did. And you do,’ she shoots back vehemently. Momentarily, she struggles in his arms, but he fights her on it, holding her firmly against him. ‘Why are you here?’ she asks again. ‘Why are you here, Ben?’

 

He runs a hand over her hair before gently pushing on her chin, forcing her to look at him. ‘I’m not here to break your heart,’ he whispers. ‘I’m not here to seduce you, or to try and get you to take me back, or to go back to what we once were,’ he adds. ‘I’m here because I haven’t been able to sleep properly since the day you left,’ he says miserably. ‘I’m here because every morning when I woke up, and looked at myself in the mirror, I saw you and the hurt in your eyes stare back at me. I’m here because I treated you so terribly, and I never apologised, or got to explain, and...’ he trails off, sighing again, tightening his arms around her even harder. ‘I meant what I said,’ he tells her. ‘I loved you, Rey. I still love you. And I don’t know... I needed to tell you that, I guess. I needed to tell you that I loved you, and how sorry I was, how sorry I still am, before I could let you go. I needed to know you were okay. I still need to know you’re okay.’

 

She stares at him with disbelief. ‘Are you really so selfish as this?’ she asks him. ‘Are you really so unbelievably arrogant so as to put me through this hell, not once, not twice, but  _ three fucking times _ , so that you can sleep better at night? You wanted to find me to ease your own conscience... really?’

 

Ben winces. ‘No... not just that. I’m hoping that you’ll get some sort of closure too, Rey.’ He kisses her forehead once more. ‘You don’t seem happy, Rey. And I want you to be happy. I really, really do.’

 

For a moment, they are both quiet. When he speaks again, the rumble of his voice reverberating against Rey’s hair, he sounds tired.

 

‘Whenever I arrived at a new base, these past few years...’ Ben begins. ‘I used to hope I would find you, and that you would be happy. I wanted to see you from a distance, and find you tanned and healthy and smiling, working on a base somewhere pleasant, with a nice crowd of people. I sometimes wished you were married. Maybe pregnant or with a baby,’ he swallows hard, and even in her pain, Rey knows how much those words hurt him. ‘I would hope against hope to find you like that, settled and happy and content, and...’

 

‘And what?’ she whispers. ‘What would you have done, if you’d found me like that?’

 

He’s quiet for a moment. ‘I would have walked away.’

 

‘Without ever telling me you loved me? Or apologising, or...?’

 

‘I think,’ Ben interrupts, giving her a squeeze. ‘I think it would have been enough, to know you were happy and had moved on and weren’t worse off for our relationship. If I’d found you like that, I would’ve walked away, no questions asked.’

 

‘Without ever seeing me again?’

 

He nods. ‘Yeah. Without ever seeing you again.’

 

Rey feels bitterness course through her. ‘But I’m not settled. Or content.’

 

‘Or happy?’ Ben adds, a question rather than a statement, and she sighs. 

 

‘No. Not happy.’

 

Again, they fall into quiet, the distant break of the ocean the only noise between them. For a time they lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, breathing in the scent of the other.

 

‘I had a feeling you would be here, you know?’ he says suddenly. But Rey is warm in his arms and incredibly sleepy and she has to rouse herself to answer him. 

 

‘Why?’

 

‘I just had a feeling, is all,’ Ben sighs. ‘An isolated island, a marine paradise. I could see you here. I was hoping you’d be happy. I was hoping you’d be okay.’

 

Rey exhales deeply against him. ‘I’m okay, Ben. Really I am.’

 

He doesn’t say anything, and she’s not sure whether or not he believes her. Again, they fall into that sleepy, almost dreamlike quiet of before. It would be so easy - too easy almost - to curl up into him and sleep.

 

But no. 

 

‘How’s Kaydel?’ she abruptly whispers, and the word is like a knife through the spell like atmosphere they’ve woven around each other. Ben’s body tenses up.

 

‘Good,’ he replies. ‘She’s good.’ 

 

‘You’re still in touch?’ she asks, hating herself for asking him.

 

He stiffens further. ‘Yeah.’

 

She stiffens too. ‘Oh. How nice for you.’ 

 

She goes to push away from him, but he holds tight to her.

 

‘Don’t do this, Rey,’ he groans. ‘Please don’t hate me for her.’

 

‘Why not? You were sleeping with me while planning your wedding to her... why shouldn’t I hate you for that? Tell me why?’

 

Ben breathes out, closing his eyes and clearly thinking, but Rey doesn’t wait for him to collect his thoughts.

 

‘Do you know how I’ve tortured myself all these years, thinking of you and her together? Thinking of what you must have said to her to justify your time with me? Thinking of you hopping from my bed into hers and...’

 

And she breaks down at that, stifling back another sob, feeling hot tears spill from her eyes. Ben groans again, rolling her onto her back, kissing the trail of sadness from her eyes to her lips. He kisses her once more, brushing her hair from her face, caging her in his arms. 

 

‘Please Rey, please baby,’ he begs. ‘Don’t do this... please don’t... please let me explain...’

 

But Rey is beyond pride now. ‘Did you love her too?’ she asks unhappily. ‘Did you kiss her like you kissed me? Did you have a pet name for her too? Or do you only use those for your little arrangements on the side?’

 

‘No, no, no, it’s not like that,’ Ben whispers, still kissing the tears from her cheeks. ‘Please don’t talk about yourself like you were the _ arrangement, _ Rey. You were never that. You could never be that to me. She was the arrangement, Rey. She was. Not you. You were everything to me... she was just... just this girl...’

 

‘Your ex-girlfriend,’ Rey says bitterly. ‘Or was she still the girlfriend? No, don’t try and answer... it doesn’t matter. The only title she really needed was the one you willingly gave her.  _ Fiancee _ .’

 

Ben winces again. ‘She was an ex-girlfriend,’ he admits. ‘And when I came back to Resistance... my mother wanted us to get back together. It would have been the oil merger of the century, Rey. A marriage between us... it would’ve been the start of a new era for Resistance and Outer Rim Industries. My mother was desperate for it to happen.’

 

‘I saw the way you looked at her,’ Rey interjects miserably. ‘I saw you two together at parties, in photographs... you can’t pin this all on your mother, Ben.’

 

Ben sighs. ‘No. No, I can’t, and I wouldn’t try. Kaydel and I... she was my first love, Rey. We were teenagers when we first got together, just kids, and... and I did love her, once upon a time. And I would’ve married her, and been happy with her, and been content and settled...’ 

 

Rey goes to push against him again, to sit up and make him leave and never see her again, when he puts both hands against her cheeks, kissing them softly and making her look into his eyes.

 

‘I was going to marry her, and would’ve married her, if it hadn’t been for you, Rey,’ he says fiercely. ‘Because as soon as I laid eyes on you, my little Starfish, I was ruined -  _ ruined -  _ for anyone else. I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you on that rig, Rey. I loved you then and wanted you then just the same as I love you now. And when I came back to Resistance, I really hoped to lure you closer to me with a bright new job and big project to work on...’ he gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’m not good with people, Rey. I never have been. I’m awkward and quiet and introverted and just not... just not used to people wanting me for me. I’ll admit it, Rey: I tried to buy your love at first. I thought if we worked together I might get a chance to... I don’t know...’

 

‘Fuck me on your desk the first chance you get?’ Rey fills in cruelly, and she sees Ben inhale sharply.

 

‘That was...’

 

‘A mistake?’

 

But Ben shakes his head. ‘No. Not a mistake. The only mistake I ever made with you was always letting you go. It was a mis-step, perhaps. A momentary allowance for lust to get the better of common sense. But it wasn’t a mistake, Rey. Never that.’

 

‘Did you love her?’ she asks again, pushing down another cry. 

 

‘No,’ he answers bluntly.

 

‘Were you sleeping with her... as well as with me?’ she carries on, and Ben falls quiet.

 

‘Oh, God -’

 

‘Once,’ he whispers. ‘Just the once. After that party, where we fought. I figured that was it. That we were done. My mother was going on at me to marry Kaydel, to remember myself and who I was and who my family were, and I’d lost any hope for us. You kept pushing me away... kept saying we were a mistake, kept going on and on about the fucking rules and... and I made myself wake up to the situation.’ Ben takes a deep breath, his fingers clenching tightly in her hair. ‘I told myself to get a grip. I told myself you didn’t love me. That it was an affair, plain and simple. That if I couldn’t have you, I could at least have the career. That I could take the simple road: Kaydel, the merger, a family. In the... what was it? Four weeks we weren’t together? Well, I took Kaydel out a few times. We slept together once.’

 

Rey bites her lip at his admission, hard enough that she’s certain she’s drawn blood, and Ben looks down at her, misery written into every line of his face.

 

‘It was... awful, really. Turns out I can pretend  _ not _ to love someone when I need to, but I can’t lie about loving anyone else. A week later and I couldn’t bear to be away from you any longer.’ Ben kisses her again, softly and gently on the lips. ‘Please don’t hate me for this, Rey. Please don’t.’

 

But Rey turns her head from his. She feels strangely numb. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’         

 

But Ben nuzzles her neck with his forehead. ‘I loved you. I’ve loved you for so long... it was a mistake. Only one night. Just a mistake.’

 

‘Like us,’ she comments blankly, and he turns to her in shock.

 

‘No, not like us. She and I... we were nothing like you and I. You and me, Rey... that was real. Please believe me. We were real.’

 

There’s nothing more to say. Rey sighs, turning onto her side, and Ben follows her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, his large hands splayed across her waist. 

 

‘I love you,’ he says firmly. ‘We were real.’

 

But Rey doesn’t want to talk now. ‘I’m tired,’ she whispers.

 

He nods behind her. ‘Can I stay?’ he asks, his voice uncertain. ‘I don’t want to leave you... not yet...’

 

Rey shrugs. She still feels numb.

 

For a time they lay there, curled around each other, their breaths falling ever more deep and even. 

 

‘Ben?’

 

He moves slightly behind her. ‘Yeah?’

 

‘Do you know about cone snails?’

 

He’s still for a moment. ‘No.’

 

‘They’re beautiful... but highly venomous. They’re only a few inches in size, but they have enough poison to kill ten fully grown humans inside of them.’

 

Ben pauses. ‘Really?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey says with a sigh. ‘People are stupid, Ben. Do you know that? They see this beautiful shell and try and keep it for themselves. But then they get stung, and then they die, and then the next person swims by, and even though they know - they  _ know -  _ that the snail is venomous they still try and catch it, still try and keep it. And then they get stung and die and the whole thing starts again, over and over and over and over in this ridiculously beautiful but deadly cycle.’

 

‘Rey -’

 

‘I’m the swimmer in this story, Ben. And you’re the snail,’ Rey says sadly. ‘I wanted you for myself, even though you stung me, again and again and again. You’re beautiful to me, you know? Because I love you too. I really do. But you’re deadly to me too. Because every time I get close to you, you hurt me. Maybe you don’t mean to, but you do.’

 

‘Rey -’ 

 

‘Or maybe I’m the snail, and you’re the swimmer, and I hurt you too. I don’t know. I’m too tired to care. Or maybe too hurt. I don’t know.’

 

‘I love you,’ Ben whispers tiredly, and Rey nods against her pillow.

 

‘I love you too,’ she whispers back. ‘But I don’t know where we go from here. Maybe nowhere. Maybe this is it.’

 

‘Maybe,’ Ben concedes, his voice utterly defeated. ‘Maybe it was never meant to get this far.’

 

Rey stiffens against him, and he squeezes her tightly. ‘It wasn’t a mistake though. You’re never a mistake to me, Rey.’

 

She nods.

 

‘You’re not a snail to me, either,’ he adds. ‘You’ll never be anything to me but my Starfish. You’ll always be my Starfish.’

 

At that, Rey’s throat feels painfully tight, her eyes heavy and dry with tears and tiredness.

 

‘Can I stay?’ Ben asks again, and she nods weakly.

 

He hugs her tightly as they fall into quiet together.

  
  


He shouldn’t stay the night.

 

It’s against their rules.

 

But he does, holding tight to Rey into the small hours of the morning.

 

Because the rules are different now.

 

But no, Rey thinks, when she wakes to find Ben’s arms still around her. It’s not that they’re different.

 

It’s that they aren’t together any more. The rules aren’t different.

 

It’s just that they no longer apply.              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just keep upping the angst, don’t I? Maybe the hospital should have stabilised my angst levels as well as my blood sugar.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter is called ‘Barnacle’ and yes, I know how creepy that sounds.


End file.
